


Ring My Bell

by hit_the_books, Zeryx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Artist Castiel, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Castiel and Mental Health Issues, Engineer Dean, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Happy Ending, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Meanstiel - Freeform, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Nurse Meg, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Past Incest, Past Institutionalization, Polyamory, Supernatural Rare Pair Big Bang 2016, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Castiel, Top Dean, Topping from the Bottom, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-09 06:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 37
Words: 82,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6894391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeryx/pseuds/Zeryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of a tragedy, it's been nearly a year since Castiel left the home of he and his long-time partner Dean Winchester. Stifled by taking care of Cas, when an opportunity comes through work to visit Japan, Dean takes it. Lost without Dean, the past is closing in on Cas.<br/>Left behind to pick up the pieces is their old mutal flame, Meg Masters in her role as a companion and nurse for the agoraphobic and monophobic recluse. As Meg tends to Castiel, all sorts of lines start to blur. What will be waiting for Dean when he returns home?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do heed our tags, they are not there for decoration.
> 
> This fic was written for the [2016 Rare Pair Big Bang](http://rarepairbb.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thanks to [hisroyalhellishness for their art featured in this fic](http://hisroyalhellishness.tumblr.com/post/145015124465/heres-my-fic-art-for-the-rpbb-fic-ring-my-bell-by).
> 
> Thanks to [ExpatGirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpatGirl) for her help with this fic.
> 
> hit_the_books: Zeryx and I began writing this fic on New Year's Day 2016. It has been a hell of a ride getting this fic together (including meeting up in person at a convention and working on it together in the same room). I feel that the two of us have brought together a story that even in its deepest, darkest moments is still a compelling read.
> 
> Zeryx: Boss lady knows what she's talking about. Praise her for her moderating influence, as this fic would be even darker without her. While I wish we hadn't been working to a deadline, I still stand by our work and am proud of our baby. Enjoy, you sick fucks!

“I’ll be back by five,” says Dean over the cell Castiel has on loudspeaker. The cell is on the coffee table in the front of the living room reading nook. Three slats of glass curve around the alcove, windows onto the outside place.

Three girls, all on basket fronted bicycles cycle past the house. They are young and seem so happy to be out in the sunshine—all smiles, hair streaming out from under helmets. Castiel watches them with distant interest, like the academic studying a subject. His subject is life told through pixels on a website and an app. But what he lives many would not deign to call a life.

Castiel Novak last left the house that he lives in with his long term partner, Dean Winchester, nine months ago. There’d been shorter periods of societal isolation before, when everything just got to be too much for him for awhile. This time, though, he is certain the urge to leave his refuge has been completely smothered. No longer does he wish to step off his front porch and head into the chaotic hubbub of the world outside. In fact all that moving and shaking is very welcome to happen as far away from Castiel as it likes—he’s tried it and found its cloying taste bitter— metallic and nightmarish.

A huge eucalyptus tree in their front yard scatters an appealing shadow over the grass and hunks of its discarded bark. In times past, Castiel sat beneath its shielding branches in the cool minty scent and read for hours on end. Chancing a glance at a pair of old sandals, Castiel almost, _almost_ , feels a pull to head out with his latest paper weight. Instead he stares vacantly out through the blinds, frozen, a fear he can’t describe vibrating deep within his bones and speeding his pulse.

“Cas, are you there?”

“Sorry, Dean, yes. You will be back by five.”

“Uh-huh. Listen, I’m gonna grab us something for dinner. Any preferences?”

The window’s allure is broken as Cas turns to squint at his phone. Dean rarely brings back takeout, preferring to cook from scratch most evenings. Takeout is the harbinger of bigger things. Ominous. Cas tries to think of good things that have happened with takeout, and… nothing comes to mind.

Pulling at his jean pockets and then pushing his hands deep within them, Cas tries to keep his breathing even. _Maybe Dean has just had a long day_ , he tries to rationalize.

“Cas?”

“Uh, yes. Um, would you be able to get Thai, please?”

“Hot as possible for Mr. Hot stuff?” 

Cas can practically hear the cheesy wink Dean is giving him and rolls his eyes. “The spicier the better, yes.”

“Alright. See you at five.” Dean hangs up and Cas glares at his cell like it might bite him any second. _It’s fine, everything's fine Novak, yes, pleasant times involving takeout…_ And Cas finally recalls one birthday where he refused to go to the restaurant Dean had booked and they’d ended up with pizza at home. _That counts… right?_

Leaving his cell where it lies, Cas wanders barefooted back into his office and stares at the graphics tablet that’s waiting for him, its massive diagonal surface calling him. He still has two panels to finish on his webcomic’s latest installment. Blue wireframes shout for details and shading. Speech bubbles that need to be written and drawn.

He can’t disappoint his fans, because he already disappoints himself each second he thinks about each second he’s spent without leaving the house.

***

Dean drums his fingers on his thigh while he waits outside the passthrough window for his take-out to appear. _Cas was even edgier than usual. I know he suspects something. Fuck. What am I going to do?_

He’s already tried talking to Gabriel, though it left a distinct burning sensation in his gut that felt suspiciously like betrayal. It’d went over about as well as a Trekkie at a Star Wars convention. _There’s nothing to be done for it._

Dragging his heels as he returns home, despite the imminent danger of cold noodles and congealed rice, the feeling percolating through Dean is a confusing mixture of relief and anxiety. _I really don’t want to leave him, but I have to take care of me, too… or I can’t take care of anyone. Fuck._

Dean determinedly does not think about how his father is living wheelchair-bound—thanks to a drunken hunting accident—in a nursing home in Orange County. Nice and far away from him and Sam.

Their small bungalow comes into view, and Dean takes a steadying breath before putting his key in the lock. As he expected, Cas is sitting at the kitchen table, plates, cutlery, and napkins arranged in preparation of his arrival. “Hey, I asked the cook and he made it extra spicy.” Dean shoots Cas a smile he really doesn’t feel as he puts the food down, and Cas returns it equally half-heartedly. 

Disguising his stalling by grabbing some beer out of the fridge, Dean tries desperately to maintain a veneer of calm. _I know the counsellor said a stable routine was best for him. But it’s been freaking months. After dinner. This can wait until after dinner. I wish mom hadn’t moved so far away with my step dad._

Dean pops the caps off of two beers, sets them down, and takes a long swallow as Cas divies up the thai, giving Dean more rare steak salad and himself more pad thai.

Dinner is a strained affair, both sneaking glances while the other supposes their partner isn’t looking.

“So, Cas…” Castiel tilts his head in that familiar endearing gesture that makes Dean wonder if he was a bird in a former life or just permanently off-balance, and he swallows hard, nearly unable to go on.

“Yes?”

“I’m going away. Just for… a little while.” Dean windmills helplessly with his fork before putting it down.

Castiel is rigid, not moving a single muscle, not even blinking. “Oh?”

Pushing his noodles around on his plate, Dean can’t quite meet Cas’s eyes. “Work. I gotta go check out our Japanese division, check they’re following all the standards and protocols… and heck, while I’m there, I think I’ll be able to catch the Game market. Might come back with some choice doujin.” Dean smirks up at Cas, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Is that so?” Mechanically, Castiel chews his food, and Dean desperately tries to ignore how it feels like there’s no bones in his spine, because it’s a struggle to keep sitting upright.

“I don’t… I don’t want you to be alone, Cas.” Dean takes a deep breath. “I talked to Gabriel, and he’s going to have someone come in to see you, okay?”

Castiel puts down his fork and glares at Dean. “I do not wish for a stranger to come into the house, as if I am some poorly trained pet that will shit itself if left to its own devices.”

Dean flinches and pushes away from the table, picking up his beer but not drinking it. “It’s not— it’s not like that, Cas.”

“Then tell me what it _is_ like, Dean.” Castiel glares at Dean, barely restrained fury in that otherwise statue-still body, and Dean tries desperately not to think about how usually when Cas looks at him like that it’s because he’s about to pound Dean’s ass into next week.

Grasping at straws is all Dean can do. “I—we, we found someone you know from highschool who’s working as a … companion now. Do you remember Meg Masters?”

“Yes.” Cas has no emotion on his face at all as he grabs his and Dean’s half-full plates and viciously throws them in the garbage can. The sound of splintering flat-ware is deafening in the silence.

Castiel stands with his head bowed after the outburst. Desperate, Dean crosses the room to him and grabs him by his slumped shoulders. “Cas—”

Jabbing Dean viciously in the chest, Castiel hisses each word, “ _This changes **nothing**_ ,” and storms off, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

As he stands there, stunned, rubbing furiously at his temples, Dean can only think: _I am so screwed._


	2. Chapter 2

The fleece comforter is soft and warm, striped in five shades of blue. Castiel has thrown it over his head and shoulders, becoming a blanketed lump in the middle of the bed. His feet are neatly tucked in, the fabric obscuring all visible signs of Cas’s form. Anger hums uncomfortably through his muscles, as he trembles and breathes in short broken gasps refusing the tears that want to run down his cheeks like cheap paint. 

There’s no denying the anger that Castiel is feeling towards Dean and his employers, but the fury that burns hottest is reserved for himself. How many times, back in highschool, had he told Gabriel and Dean that he would visit Tokyo some day? That he’d go to the haunts of some of his favourite writers and artists in manga? Back then it would have been as a fan. An epic pilgrimage that would have taken in the usual tourist spots and then some local flavors that are usually ignored. 

Gripping his bare foot in his hand, Castiel squeezes and pushes his fingernails into the thin skin on the top of his foot and the sensitive skin of his arch. It’s hard enough to draw blood and he grinds his teeth to stop himself from yelping. He’s not jealous that Dean gets to go to Japan, he’s mad that he feels so incapable of doing it himself. That he’s too sick to go and meet the people who’ve been calling for him to come out for over three years, since his webcomic really took off. He has fans of his own now and manga creators who are into his Work. 

_Poor little Cassie, so screwed up in the head, can’t step out the front door. Can’t go to ComicCon, which is only upstate. Can’t go meet Tetsu even though he’s been begging me for two years to head out._ Castiel lets go of his foot and brings his fingers to his mouth and licks the tips, catching the iron tang of blood under his nails. Dean knows much about Castiel’s webcomic, but Cas never goes into great deal about the professional connections he’s been making. 

It’s finally too warm under the comforter and Cas throws it off, letting out a long breath. Comforter gone, he can hear Dean shifting on the other side of the bedroom door. Castiel pictures Dean: back leaning against the door; ass on the floorboards; knees up to his chest and cell in his hands. And then he thinks about what it would be like for Dean to be gone. His mind skitters around the memory of what it’d been like when his brother was gone— for good— Dean, away for months. 

Castiel’s chest feels tight and he doesn’t want to cry. Doesn’t want to let himself break like the plates he smashed. Fall to tiny pieces on the floor and be unable to pick himself back up. 

“Dean?” Calls Cas, his own voice sounding rough and alien to him. 

Floorboards creak outside and the door handle turns. Cas slides off the bed and pads over to the bedroom door, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck the moment he steps into the room. He can feel Dean’s shock and his quick breaths. Briefly, Cas nuzzles at Dean’s neck and jaw, brushing his nose over stubble, letting the roughness distract him from the tears that still blur the edges of his vision. His boyfriend smells of sweet spices and leather. 

“Cas, I’ll—” Dean starts, but his words are swallowed by Castiel’s mouth on his. _Need this. Need this. Need this_ , Cas repeats to himself, pushing against Dean, deepening the kiss as he tries to replace the bullshit squirming around in his head. Eager fingers claw at Dean’s shirt and Cas finds skin to run his nails over. Their counsellor would say he’s deflecting right now, but he doesn’t care. 

Dean breaks the kiss and catches his breath. “We need to—ahhh!” A blush rises on Dean’s cheeks and he pants, Castiel’s fingers having found a nipple to twist and tease. 

“We need this.” Castiel starts kissing Dean again, tongue rubbing at Dean’s lips, persuading them open. Tasting steak and beer, Cas sighs into Dean’s mouth and pushes him against a dresser. He can feel Dean getting hard in his slacks, the outline rubbing against his thigh. Cas is already more than halfway there. 

Strong hands work their way onto Castiel’s shoulders and Dean pushes him gently away. 

“No, we need to talk.” Dean’s lips are swollen from kissing and all Cas wants is to shut him up. 

“What’s left to say?” 

And before Dean can have a chance to reply, Castiel’s fingers are on Dean’s belt and fly, opening them with practiced ease. Castiel drops to his knees and pulls Dean’s cock out of his boxers and slacks. Tracing long fingers across the silky smoothness, Cas smiles when he sees the head twitch. 

“Cas, please… you’re just—FUCK!” 

Dean doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying, because Cas has taken him into his mouth. Pubic hair brushing the tip of Castiel’s nose each time he slides down, he delights in Dean’s Deaness—familiar musk and saltiness—making him ache. 

Stuttered breaths punch out of Dean. His hand falls to Cas’s hair and twine there as he takes a deep breath in through his nose. He forces himself to think, to keep the situation at the forefront of his mind, and eventually his body stops responding to Cas’s increasingly frantic ministrations. 

“Cas, stop. Come on, man.” 

Letting Dean’s soft length slide out of his mouth, Castiel’s eyes are downcast as he gently tucks Dean back in and closes his pants. He looks up at Dean from his kneeling position on the floor then, eyes wide and earnest, tears clearly about to brim over. 

“We gotta talk about this. And I’m really sorry, but I have to go. You know I do. I know you can’t come with me, like you always wanted, this was more your thing than mine—but. Don’t consider this a wasted opportunity.” Dean crouches down, cupping Cas’s jaw.  
“Without me around to distract you, who knows what you could get done, huh?” Dean chuckles weakly, lips trying to twitch into a smile that doesn’t quite form. 

Wordlessly, Castiel hugs Dean to him, pressing his face into Dean’s neck. “Dean. I don’t want you to go. Please.” 

“I have to, sweetheart. That’s just how it is. And Hell I—” it makes Dean feel like an asshole but he makes himself say it anyway. “I want to go. I need to get away and clear my head for awhile. Experience some new things.” 

Panicked, Cas digs his fingers into the back of Dean’s shirt and uses the leverage to haul him back to look him in the face. “New things? Do you mean new _people_?” 

Dean swallows, jaw working, and can’t meet Cas’s eyes. “You know it’s not like that. Don’t be like that.” 

“It _is_ ‘like that’, then. Dean, how could you?” 

Dean glares up at Castiel. “How could I? I ain’t even gone and you’re already accusing me of cheating on you? Already telling me that you can’t trust me? That’s crazy talk—” Dean flinches at the “c” word “—that’s,that’s paranoid as Hell, Cas! You’re just proving my point. I need time away. This is a good excuse.” 

Numbly, Castiel lets his fingers slide out of Dean’s shirt as Dean pushes away and stands up. Cas stares up at him, disbelieving, and whispers so faintly it almost can’t be heard. “An excuse. An excuse to not be trapped in the house with me.” 

Eyes hooded and dull, Dean mumbles, “I’m going to Sam’s. We’ll talk in the morning.” He grabs his coat and walks out. The thud of the door slamming shut makes the silence ring deafeningly in Castiel’s ears.


	3. Chapter 3

Excited snuffling sounds greet Dean the moment he’s stood in front of the door to Sam’s apartment. Heavy footsteps follow it and then happy barks. Sam had buzzed him through into the apartment block.

Dean can hear Sam negotiating with his dog. “Okay, Bones, I know it’s Dean, but you gotta let me open the door so we can say hi to him.” Another happy bark. “Good boy.”

The door pulls open and Bones darts out to start licking Dean’s hands and nudging them. “Hey, good to see you too.” Dean bends down and gives the golden retriever a quick scratch behind his floppy ears.

“Alright, can we let Dean get inside? Bones, home.” The dog understands the command and hurries back into the apartment, but before Dean can follow, Sam steps forward and pulls Dean into a hug, slapping his back.

“Good to see you, man.” Sam lets go of Dean.

“Am I finally allowed inside?”

“Sure, sure.” Dean’s brother backs off and the two of them head into the apartment.

Sam instinctively heads for his kitchen and the refrigerator while Dean kicks off his shoes and collapses on Sam’s huge brown leather couch. Dean closes his eyes and sits there, stroking Bones when the dog bumps his hand again. He tries not to think a moment, just lets the calm space wash over him. Bones licks his hand appreciatively and then rests his head in Dean’s lap.

“Here you go.” Sam’s standing in front of him, opened beer bottle held out.

“Thanks.” Dean opens his eyes, takes the beer and has a quick swig, letting the fresh, cool hoppiness cleanse his palate before swallowing.

Sam settles down beside Dean, but Bones stays put, seeming to decide that Dean needs him more than his master. His younger brother doesn’t say anything, letting a comfortable silence form as they sit there and drink beer.

This silence has a time limit and Dean’s aware of it ticking down. Dean had texted Sam before driving over saying he was heading there, but he knew that turning up in the middle of the evening like this would require an explanation. Sam being Sam would expect nothing but the truth from Dean. His little brother could spot bullshit from a mile away most of the time, which is why he’s recently made partner at the law firm he works for.

The couch shifts as Sam puts his half full bottle down on the coffee table in front of them. _Time’s up._

“So, what’s happened now?”

Dean takes another swig of beer. “My job’s taking me to Japan for a few months to check that the company’s new subsidiaries over there fall in line.”

“Oh, wow, that’s fantastic.” Sam slaps Dean on the back. “How’s Cas taken this?” Sam grabs his beer and takes a swig.

“Well, I’m you know, here.” Dean stops petting Bones to make a sweeping gesture encompassing Sam’s living room. “Not home. Cas hasn’t taken it the greatest. What with the ruined food, broken dishes, yelling and distraction via BJ—”

Sam starts coughing on his beer and Dean slaps him on the back. “Anything else?” Sam asks, half gasping.

“You know how I feel about Cas. But I didn’t sign on for… whatever it is you want to call what he’s been doing, for freaking eternity. And I can’t just ignore something like this falling into my lap. I do right by my company, it’s doing right by me and we’ll both be better off in the end.” _And I’m going to ignore the dagger I feel twisting in my guts right now. I’m gonna just sit here and deny to kingdom come that it feels like when we left dad in that nursing home once it became obvious he was never going to accept the new limitations life put on his drinking._

Bones nudges Dean’s hand again and Dean starts stroking the big softie gently on his head. Scratching behind his ears and stroking down the back of his neck.

He can feel the unspoken guilt over dad stretching between them, see it mirrored on Sam’s face. “You need a break.”

It’s an obvious observation for Sam to make, but it’s true. Cas isn’t someone who needs help with eating, washing, going to the toilet or getting dressed, well, not exactly. Not in the same way their paralyzed from the waist-down father does.

The strain on Dean is psychological more than physical. Dealing with Castiel’s paranoia, quick-silver moods and bouts of depression. His lover can handle one night alone, but longer and Dean knows that even though Cas refuses the outside world he still craves human contact.

“Yeah, well, hopefully he’ll get his head out of his ass before I take off.”

“How long until you leave?”

“Two weeks.” _Two, very long, weeks._

“What kind of help is Cas going to have while you’re gone?”

Dean ruffles Bone’s fur. “Gabriel’s helping us out. Y’know, a “sober companion” or whatever like on Elementary. Dunno if you remember her, but Meg Masters, we knew her in highschool, she’s gonna be living with Cas part-time while I’m away.”

Sam nods and takes a sip of beer. “You want me to check in on him too?”

“Surprised you even have to ask. I know how much you two nerds love to go on about Jazz and art noveau and shitty over-priced wine.”

Sam punches Dean lightly on the shoulder and Bones leaps up a little and catches Dean’s face with his wet tongue. Dean gently pushes the dog away.

“But yeah, duh. If you want. And Cas likes Bones, he can say hi, too.” Sam finishes his beer.

“Look, I gotta hit the hay. Early morning briefing. The futon’s all made up.”

“Thanks man. I need to head back early anyway, Meg’s meeting us tomorrow.” Dean stands up and stretches.

Sam nods. “Look… I’m sure it’ll work out. It’s Cas. He’s been stuck on you like white on rice practically since the first day you met.”

Dean gives a small smile and picks up the finished beer bottles to put them in the recycling. Hope is Sam’s thing, not Dean’s. Especially when he’s in uncharted waters with god only know how many sharks circling around.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day dawns bright and crisp, and Dean snaps awake on Sam’s futon, the corner of the comforter under his mouth soaked with drool.  
_Uuuhh… what… oh I’m at Sam’s._ The previous night’s events catch up to him and Dean groans as a migraine starts to form at the base of his skull. _Shit._ Bones whuffs a little from where he’s crated in the living room, presumably at hearing Dean groan and shift around in the next room. 

“Keep your pants on, you damn mangy mutt.” Dean sits up and yawns, rubbing sand out of the corners of his eyes. _Christ can’t even be awake two seconds and something’s demanding my attention._ Something sharp twists in his gut and Dean carefully doesn’t think of anything at all as he heads to Sam’s kitchen to start coffee. 

As he pours water into the carafe, Dean notes that Sam still isn’t out of bed yet. Staying up later to talk to Dean with the lawyer’s hours his little brother works must be responsible. Just another thing for him to feel guilty for.  
_No dammit, we’ve talked about this, our counselor talked my damn ear off about me taking the blame for everything all the time. I’ve always needed less sleep than Sam. That’s just how it is._

While the coffee brews, Dean drags his heels over to Bones and lets him out, to much enthusiastic tailwagging, some licking and a little jumping. “Sheesh,” Dean mutters, Half-embarrassed, half-happy at the attention. “Needy little bitch,” he says, bending down to scratch the dog behind the ears. He gets a mouthful of slobber for his trouble. 

“Ack!” 

It’s then that Sam rescues him, wrangling his dog by snapping the lead onto his leash.  
“Hey Dean. Yeah he gets a little… excited in the morning, ha ha.” Bones has gone stock-still, knowing that if he misbehaves the leash will go unclipped and he’ll have to wait to go outside again. 

“That’s amazing. Look at you, Cesar Milan.” 

“Shucks, Dean. Any bonehead with patience and a book could do this much. Anyway, I gotta take him to the bathroom and then for our morning jog, so let yourself out, okay?” Sam claps Dean on the shoulder. “Good luck today.” 

Dean sarcastically salutes Sam with his mug. “I’m gonna need it.”  
  


***

  


It’d been a long lonely night for Castiel, curled into a ball under the covers, tablet in hand as he watched old episodes of “Young Justice” and “Sleepy Hollow”. Once, in a particularly Self-destructive mood, he’d even tried an episode of True Detective’s second season. 

He hadn’t gotten a whole lot of work done; he’d spent a few hours working on an elaborate and particularly grotesque tableau of the Colt sisters and the monster for this arc. It was the big reveal splash page where the reader finally got to see the transformed Alpha werewolf in action, ambushing Daley and taking a huge swipe out of her side in the process, nearly eviscerating her. There’d been far too much enjoyment had in colouring all the red in in large chunky strokes. 

The morning scarcely finds him in a better mood. Their bed is lonely and cold, too big. The first night like this of many to come. He wants to look forward to seeing Meg, but that’s out of the question. He’s going to look weak in front of her after having lost touch for so many years. It makes Cas clutch the comforters tighter around him and will the rest of the world away. 

_Maybe I could just stay here_ , and Cas knows it’s a stupid idea. Knows that Dean will return and that if he’s still in their bed when Dean arrives, he will be wrestled out of it and babied.  
Unwilling limbs uncurling, Cas slowly straightens out and throws the comforters off. He lays on the bed straight as a pole and takes several deep breaths. _Okay…_ Sitting up, Cas shuffles off of the bed and pads over to the en suite to use the toilet and get the shower going. Pulling off the sweats he’d gone to bed in, Cas kicks them out of the way and climbs into the steaming stream of water. The water feels good, driving over his back, pummelling his skin. When Dean had bought the house, he’d spent a great deal of time and money ensuring that they had decent water pressure. 

Thinking about Dean and how much he likes this shower, Cas finds himself blushing and getting hard. He has no idea when Dean’s going to be back or when Meg will be here, but Cas feels need coiling in his stomach. Last night’s failed advances flash through his mind and he can’t shake the thoughts brought by the sense-memory of Dean hard in his mouth. Choosing to forget how things ended, Cas takes his length in hand and starts to leisurely stroke himself. Speeding his hand up, gasping in the steam, Cas doesn’t hear the knock or the bathroom door opening. 

“Fuck… Dean… fuck…” Cas cries, getting close. 

“Cas?” 

Cas doesn’t quite register that Dean is in the bathroom with him. 

“Dean… Dean… fuck… DEAN!” Cas cries loudly, coming in hot spurts over his hand and the shower wall. 

Through his orgasm fogged brain, Cas registers a door opening and closing. Brain fog clearing, Cas takes in a few centering breaths and realizes: _it’s Dean_. Quickly finishing up in the shower, Cas half stumbles out and wraps a towel around his hips, throws one around his shoulders and then steps out into the bedroom. 

Dean’s sat on the bed, smirking and Cas wants to do things to those lips even though he’s only just come. 

“You should have knocked.” Cas towels at his hair. 

“I did and you were too busy to hear me.” Dean looks up at him from under his long lashes and Cas huffs out a breath, eyes straying to look at Dean’s crotch. 

“I could stay busy.” Cas snaps his eyes to Dean’s, hoping the promise is clear. 

Dean shifts on the bed and Cas’s lips curl upwards. “Cas, we don’t got time for this.” 

“When’s Meg getting here?” Cas takes a step closer to Dean and he notices how Dean subconsciously leans back on his arms and spreads his legs. 

“Ten.” 

_Fifteen minutes_. Cas licks his lips, gaze flicking from Dean’s eyes back to where he can now see the distinct outline of Dean’s cock inside the slacks he was wearing yesterday. This is not deflecting, this is Cas needing to take care of all business so he can focus clearly on a very important matter. What Dean had said last night about him being a distraction for Cas was partially true. 

“Plenty of time.”Cas is at the foot of the bed, legs between Dean’s. Cas rubs his hands up Dean’s thighs and feels the shiver that run throughs his boyfriend. 

“Cas,” Dean warns without heat. No hands rush up to push Castiel away, instead Dean shuffles up the bed and Cas follows after him, towel slipping off his hips as he gets between Dean’s hips. 

“Dean. I’ll make it so good. Please, just let me pleasure you with my mouth, my throat... ” Cas’s fingers are on Dean’s belt and fly, opening them and then pulling his half-hard cock out. 

Dean shudders beneath Cas as he grips Dean’s length and starts to fist his lover’s cock. A few slow strokes and Dean’s hard, head leaking and Cas bends down to flick his tongue over the slit. A moan flutters in Dean’s chest and then Cas sinks his mouth down over Dean’s erection. 

The warm, moist drag and push of Castiel’s mouth over Dean’s dick sends coherent thought spiralling out of Dean’s reach. It’s different to the night before, the way Cas’s tongue is pressing up against Dean as Cas’s mouth slides up and down him. The focus is on giving Dean pleasure instead of avoiding what’s happening. Dimly, Dean knows if he doesn’t let Cas do his thing he is going to be impossible once Meg gets there, but Dean doesn’t mind because he’s already panting. 

“God! Cas, man—fuck!” 

Dean’s hips thrust up to meet Cas’s mouth and he’s swallowed down just like Cas promised. Looking down at Cas, Dean moans at the sight before him:  
Cas’s plush lips red, stretched and wet around him, taking all of him. 

_Fuck, he’s right, we’ve got plenty of time, because I’m gonna be shooting my load in thirty seconds if he keeps this up_. Dean reaches a hand down and cards his fingers through Castiel’s dark hair, not tugging, encouraging him. Wafts of Cas’s mint-scented shower gel hit him and he wishes they had more time, so that Cas could work slowly at pulling him apart. 

Cas pulls off and licks at the underside of Dean’s head, causing Dean to tremble and a little spurt of precome to dribble. Nosing at Dean’s tip, Cas looks up at him, eyes dark, lips wet and swollen, stained with evidence of Dean’s arousal—lust incarnate and then licks his head like it’s a lollipop and Dean’s begging for Cas to suck him down again. 

There’s a ringing sound from somewhere downstairs, but it doesn’t register with Dean what the noise is. 

“Please, Cas, please, I—FUCK!” Dean yells, Cas on him, swallowing him and he can feel the back of Cas’s throat, practiced muscles repressing his gag reflex. Three bobs of Castiel’s head is all it takes and then Dean’s coming noisily into Cas’s mouth, hips thrusting. Dean’s swearing and a little incoherent. Cas swallows his come and keeps sucking until Dean’s finished. 

Crawling up the bed, Cas straddles Dean’s chest and begins to kiss him, tongue chasing his and Dean can taste himself on Cas. He strokes Cas and licks eagerly into his boyfriend’s mouth. 

The doorbell rings and Dean realizes that that is the second time it’s been rung. _Christ, Meg’s already here!_ Dean unceremoniously pushes Cas way. 

“Meg’s here! Christ!” Dean looks down at his pants and yes, he needs to change. Ignoring a bemused Cas, Dean half falls over rushing to get his slacks off, throwing the wardrobe open and grabbing a pair of jeans and an old band shirt. He doesn’t grab clean boxers, instead deciding he only has time for commando. Rushing to sort himself out, he doesn’t get to observe Cas calmly pulling on clean clothes. 

The bell rings again. 

Chest heaving, Dean runs down the stairs as Castiel follows calmly behind him. Back to Cas, he doesn’t notice his boyfriend’s mirthful smirk when he opens the front door.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean opens the door to a familiar heart-shaped face, dark brown hair framing it to curl around a long neck and over a tightly buttoned cardigan. His gaze travels lower, noting fuller curves than he remembers. “Uh, hey Meg.”

“Hiya, Dean. You grew up nice.” Guiltily, Dean snaps his wandering eyes back up to see Meg smirk. “Where’s Clarence?”

Dean runs a hand through his hair, then jerks his thumb behind himself. “Over there. Don’t call him that, though… this whole thing is weird enough for him as it is, alright?”

Meg folds her arms and settles into a professional smile devoid of the dark humour Dean remembers her for. “Sure thing. May I come in?”

“Uh yeah, Sorry.” Dean steps aside and leads the way to the living room.

“Cas! Hey, Cas…” Dean casts about for his errant boyfriend, before Cas comes into view holding a tray; there’s three mugs of coffee, along with a sugar bowl and a small carton of cream on it.

“Hello, Meg. I am sorry we only have instant on offer. Is that acceptable?” Cas places the tray on the coffee table.

“That’s more than alright, Castiel. May I sit down?”

“Please, by all means, make yourself comfortable.” Dean can’t help noticing the rigid set of his shoulders and Meg mirroring his pose and his weird sudden formalness. _Is this really one of my brighter ideas? Well, partially it was Gabe’s, but—_

Meg picks up a cup of coffee and curls her fingers around the mug, ignoring the handle completely, and blows on the liquid daintily, small mouth pursed. _Bet that mouth still stretches real wide, just like Cas’s—_ Dean blinks, freezing in his tracks as he goes to grab his own mug. _Where in the blue hell did that come from?_

“Dean? Is something wrong?”

Dean scratches at the back of his neck, while Meg looks away, purposefully giving them the illusion of privacy. “No.. I just uh, I’m wondering how old the cream is.”

Cas quirks an eyebrow, dumping three spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee. “The groceries came in just two days ago, on Wednesday as usual.”

“Right. Yeah.”

An awkward silence descends, and then Meg clears her throat. “I checked out your medical history and case file. I hope you don’t mind?”

Cas meets her eyes, then drops her gaze and nods. “It’s fine.”

One side of Dean’s mouth twitches up in a small smirk. “Expected, even.”

“Well, I go where God sends me, you know, like Quantum Leap.” Meg favours Dean with a grin, which he returns over the rim of his mug.

“Uh-huh. More like “go, your planet needs you”.”

Cas rolls his eyes and Meg snorts. “Uh-huh, sure. Listen Cas, what would _you_ hope to get out of working with me?”

Keeping his fingers wrapped tightly around his mug, thumbs curled together under the handle, Cas only sighs.

Meg puts her mug down and leans forward, hands clasped between her legs. “Work with me, sunshine. What makes you happy?”

Haltingly, Cas manages to answer. “Having someone close, but not near… sharing space. At night, to be blunt, physical affection. I find it difficult to sleep without someone within arm’s reach.”

Dean drinks his coffee silently, watching Cas’s expression slowly cave in on itself, no doubt thinking about Dean not being there to supply those needs.

“I have… very mixed feelings about how long it’s been since I managed to leave the house. It’s comfortable and I am getting a lot of work done, but… I know…”

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” Meg pats Cas on the knee. “We’ll work on that, if you want. It’s enough for me that I get paid to spend time with my favourite nerd after all these years.” Meg smirks, and despite the joke being something that would usually set Cas off— the implication that no one would willingly chose to spend time around him for free— he just gives a quiet chuckle.

“I just… I handle it poorly when expectations are placed on me to... do things. It was nerve-wracking when people tried to plan my weekends out to the last detail.” Cas gives Dean a nervous glance. Dean hadn’t been the one planning, mostly, instead it had been their network of friends demanding his presence at all manner of things.

Cas sips his coffee thoughtfully. “I don’t mind being told to do things I need to do for my own good, except for going out. Clearly. Sometimes I can get so far into the zone when I’m working that I forget to eat or… uh, do other things.”

Meg chuckles. “A workaholic huh? Gotta say I read the first couple chapters of Preternatural and they were pretty good.”

Dean watches as Cas opens up like a flower to the sun (like he does everytime someone mentions his comic) and continues hiding behind his mug.

“I don’t think that’d be a problem for me at all. Would it be a problem for you if I tried to help you with that, Castiel?”

Looking up to meet Meg’s gentle regard, Cas sets his jaw determinedly and gives a short nod up, exposing his throat and licking his lips. “No.”

“Was there more? Anything else you might need, but maybe feel a little hesitant to talk about? I won’t judge. You know me.” Meg gives Cas a winning smile that can nearly match one of Dean’s, and Castiel melts just a little, lulled by the familiarity.

“There was one other matter… but I believe it outside the scope of your duties—” a light blush rises to Cas’s face as he contemplates what he normally does for Dean, “I don’t see that really working.” The mug of coffee in Cas’s hands is suddenly very fascinating.

Dean makes the executive decision that Cas doesn’t need more space to open up to Meg, and crosses the short space to settle beside him, curling an arm around the back of his neck. “Hey buddy, it’s okay, I gotcha’. Not gone yet,” he whispers softly enough for Meg not to hear.

Meg arches an eyebrow but takes a very long drink of coffee, tilting the mug up enough that the pale column of her throat is exposed as a little dribbles out the corner of her mouth. When she sets the mug down, the pink point of her tongue flicks out to catch the errant java, and she smiles lazily, like a cat in the sun. “You’re probably right.”

Cas vibrates with tension in Dean’s arms, and he suddenly wonders if this was actually a _very bad idea._


	6. Chapter 6

Putting the dishes away in the dishwasher, Cas’s shoulders are rigid, shoulder-blades pointing into the air as he speaks with his back to Dean. “What happened in there? I saw the way you were staring at her.” 

Dean folds his arms. “The way I was staring at her? You’re the one who practically propositioned Meg after seeing her again for like five freaking minutes!” 

As Dean watches, the tips of Castiel’s ears turn red. “She was my first non-familial kiss… and first, a lot of things, Dean.” 

Dean flaps his jaw, finally shuts his mouth, then takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, like I’d forget that. Come on.” Though he kinda sorta did. Because he’d sort of fooled around with Meg when they were kids, too. ‘Cause he really didn’t like thinking about other people touching Cas. Kissing Cas. In fact…. 

“She wasn’t the first dick you sucked.” Dean looks up at Castiel, eyes glittering. 

Cas inhales sharply. “No.” His fingers stay at his sides and he fidgets as Dean stalks forward, looming over him. He pins Cas up against the shut door of the dishwasher. 

“Not the first dick in your ass.” 

“N-no…” 

“Not the first person to make you scream when you came. So hard you blacked out. Do you remember that Cas? I know I do.” Dean’s breath is hot where it ghosts over Cas’s ear, and he nibbles delicately at the shell before worrying Cas’s earlobe between his teeth. 

“I remember _everything_. Every last damn second of every first time. I hope you do, too. Because if you don’t…. I get to remind you. Just before I leave you all alone for months.” 

“ _Dean_ —” 

“Months where you’re stuck here, left to get your jollies all on your own. You can just sit and think about that awhile. About what I’ll do to you when I get home. What you will have to do for me.” 

Dean backs off and waits. Cas doesn’t turn around, and he smirks at his back. “I gotta go to work. See you later. If you’re a good boy and send me a pic of your hand wrapped around that boner I just gave you, maybe I’ll even help jog your memory of our first time when I get back.” 

Muscles tensed, Cas doesn’t move until he hears the front door open and close a few minutes later. His breathing remains fast and stuttering. Dean’s parting words keep running through his head and Cas doesn’t know if he can move, his limbs feeling like they’re connected by tripwire to the pin of a grenade a.k.a. his boner. Sure seeing Meg again had brought out a mixture of emotions and memories, but Dean was the one who’d rigged this trap. _All that talk of firsts… yes. Dean is the first person I had a true romantic relationship with. Everything else… No. No, we, I—_ Castiel struggles to keep his breathing even. _He’s the first. That’s what I decided. He’s the only person I’ve ever been in love with, so it wiped everything else clean. Nothing else matters._ Phantom images dance at the edges of his vision, and instead he focuses on Dean’s words, on his lips shaping filth, brushing against Castiel’s ear. 

The part of him that is still pissed that Dean will be heading out to Japan really does not want to give in to Dean’s suggestion. Need and anger war inside Castiel, the ghost sensations of Dean’s breath on his ear and the low rumble of his voice helping to maintain the erection that strains inside his fresh pair of jeans. _How am I meant to deal with any of this?_

Pins and needles begin to seep into his feet and Cas has to move regardless. The zipper of his jeans drags against Cas the moment he shifts his feet and he moans, quietly. Taking a shuddering breath, Cas heads back upstairs, each step an agonizing drag on him, and he heads into the bedroom. 

Cell still on his bedside table, Cas strips down, sighing when his heavy cock is finally freed. He climbs up onto the bed and settles in the center. Picking up his cell he flips through to his camera app and uses his free hand to grip tightly at the base of his cock. Breaths fast and quick now, he can’t resist one tiny pump, leaving a drop of precome oozing out of his tip. _If Dean’s going to leave me like this... least I can do is make his time in the office interesting_ , which Cas suspects will now involve a hard on while commando, as he recalls Dean rushing to get dressed and deciding against underwear. 

The cell in his hand makes a sound like an actual camera shutter. Cas studies the pic in the album app and decides to take another to go with it. Where the first was a close up of his erection, this second pic takes in a fuller view, tracing down his stomach and faint abs, all the way down to his treasure trail and then his hard and leaking dick. He messed with the focus so that his cock is what’s most visible, the flesh before unfocused. 

Cas finds the couple’s app they use and sends both pics to Dean, with the message: “Enjoy the eyeful, asshole.”  
  


***

  


Castiel sits on the couch, knees tightly together, shoulders hunched. He knows he shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t lie in wait for Dean, looking eager. He should at least have a book or his tablet in hand. But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he watches the early evening sunlight stream in through cracks in the blinds, how it dapples the floor and leaves a trail across the room over the skirt of the couch and up his leg, where it feels just this side of uncomfortable. 

Cas hears the familiar rumble of Dean’s car as it comes down the block, and then the garage door. He chews gently on his lip, trying not to squirm. There’s the click of the door being unlocked, and his pulse skyrockets further. It’s been all day. All day and Dean has been completely silent in response to his pornographic text. This could be very good or very bad. 

Dean steps through, body tense but with an odd kind of purpose as he clears the doorway. “CAS!” he calls, hanging up his coat and loosening his tie. 

Cas stays silent and waits for Dean to face him. “Hello, Dean.” He smiles. 

“Hey asshole.” Dean smirks and rolls up his shirt sleeves, crossing the space between them rapidly. He smiles down at Cas, bending over so his arms cage Cas in on either side as Dean crouches down. 

“You didn’t respond to my text.” 

“Mmm.” Dean licks his lips. “Thought I’d show you in person. Pants, off.” 

Cas eyes him down cooly. “I’m sorry, what was that?” 

Dean rolls his eyes, then sighs. “Please Cas, take your pants off?” 

Frostily, with smooth unhurried moments, Castiel complies. 

The moment his pants clear his ankles, Dean grabs Cas by the hips and pulls his ass to the end of the couch. “Bend for me, baby,” he murmurs, pushing up on Castiel’s thighs. Expression betraying exactly nothing except for a narrowing of eyes, he suppresses a shudder. 

Holding him in place, Dean totally ignores Cas’s burgeoning erection, hands pushing at Cas’s ass, thumbs digging into either side of his hole. “Hey Asshole.” Then Dean dives straight in, tongue jabbing into Cas’s anus, featherlight, slick and wet. 

Helplessly, Castiel moans and squirms, digging his fingers into the couch cushion. His neck is bent at an awkward angle where it hits the back of the sofa, but he is far beyond caring. 

“D-Dean…” Castiel can feel Dean smirk as he gives small brushing licks to the edge of Cas’s rim with the very tip of his tongue before he pushes more in, fucking in deep. 

This wet, sloppy,demanding assault continues for some time until Cas is a helpless, quivering mess, barely able to keep his legs up, feet resting on Dean’s shoulders, panting. Dean mentally pats himself on the back. _Ha. How you like them apples? Turnabout’s Fair play and all that._

He stops and draws off, rubbing a thumb into Cas’s spit-slicked entrance. “Remember the first time we did this, baby? Do ya’?” 

“Ye-yes.” 

“Tell me about it. Where were we?” Dean circles the rim, blatantly toying with it. 

“M-my cousin’s we-wedding. We were in the church confessio— _Ah!_ ” Dean presses his thumb in up to the first knuckle, and presses the second knuckle of his other fingers into Cas’s perineum. 

He chuckles, low and dirty. “That’s right, darlin’.” Dean withdraws his thumb and replaces it with his mouth, swirling his tongue around Cas’s hole, continuing to knead at his perineum. After a moment he stops and replaces his tongue with his index finger. “Go on.” 

“I was on the chair and you were misappropriating the kneeler. Y-you said it was p-pointless to wait until marriage…. because back then we couldn’t get marri—” 

“Well,” Dean says, studying Cas’s blown pupils as he adds a second finger in beside the first. “Just in Canada.” He starts scissoring his fingers, stretching Cas open wider, then presses his tongue in between his index and middle finger, inside of Cas. 

Castiel moans and bucks, fighting to stay still (largely unsuccessfully). 

Dean pulls off again and smiles up at Cas, sunlight putting blonde spots where it hits his hair. “You didn’t take much convincing after that.” Bending to his task again, Dean goes back down to one finger, searching out Cas’s prostate while he licks greedily at Cas’s rim. Castiel mutters curses, flushed all over, becoming pliant. 

“It was dark. It was dark and smelled like burnt dust, old wax, leather and incense. I wanted—I wanted to _see you_ , Dean.” 

“You’re seeing me now.” Both of them refuse to think of the irony. A moment later, Cas’s thighs finally give out, and Dean fingers him to orgasm and watches while Cas jerks himself, spraying ropey strands all over Dean’s cheek and forehead. Dean tilts his head up and the light skips off his skin, making his eyes glow greener as he stares up at Castiel. He drags his thumb through the mess and slowly, deliberately, sucks it off his finger while their gazes are locked. Cas groans and another aftershock of orgasm pulses through him, shutting his eyes.  
  


***

  


Lockers tower over Cas, stretching far overhead to a vanishing point. Faint sounds of banging, crashing, and screeching drift through the air. The double doors of his high school gym appear in the distance; red paint runs and pools down onto the floor as Cas pelts forward at a desperate sprint. 

With a forceful yank, Cas rips open the doors to find his living room—cramped, dark and squalid with an enormous grotesque beast nearly filling the space. In the middle of this is Daley, twisting and dodging deadly claws and teeth as blood flows from jagged red tears in her side. 

When Cas searches himself for a weapon, something is terribly wrong. His thigh is far thinner than it should be where a silver dagger is strapped. The buttons of his black button down dress shirt are straining over breasts. He’s not in his own body, but Cassiel’s. Wearing the all black outfit set off by the flowing black coat he always draws her in. Shock grips him (her?) for a moment further before she hears Daley swear. She grabs the angel blade and rushes the snarling slathering creature Daley is grappling with. 

“Unhand her!” Cas cries in a far higher voice than he ever recalls having. 

The monster and Daley both goggle at Cas in confusion and then an almost familiar man emerges from the shadow. His curling, dark hair and arched eyebrows ring as oddly dissonant as the smoky voice spilling from his lips reciting foreign words. The floor cracks open as the room shakes, lighting flashing as the pale blue and silver striped wallpaper peels off in huge reams. 

Both the alpha werewolf and Daley are swallowed by the gaping fissure, tumbling into darkness. Which is suddenly vanished, grey carpet now undisturbed. 

The stranger stalks over to a stunned Cas and claims her mouth, making a nostalgic feeling curl up through her chest as her eyes prick with tears of relief. It’s—it’s honestly quite welcome, despite the strangeness of the entire situation. 

Suddenly the room spins and becomes a school gym and they’re behind a stack of mats, trading slow languid kisses, the stranger stradling Cassiel’s lap. 

The kiss breaks and Cas notices that they’re back in his and Dean’s living room, all furniture in place and not a mark of grime. The stranger leans down and kisses Cas again, hair suddenly shifting into a long trailing head of curls as he—now a she—kneels back. 

Staring down at Cas is Meg, a wicked smile curling her lips. 

“Hello, Clarence.”


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel wakes up in the darkness. Sweat slicking his back, breaths fast and hot. Dean is fast asleep beside him, breaths even and peaceful, betrayal clearly not on his mind. Stomach roiling, Cas scrambles out of their bed and pads over to the bathroom, pushing the door open and pulling on the light. 

For a moment Cas feels like the grimey skein of guilt clinging to him will make him throw up. And then it passes. Leaning on the sink, he turns the faucet on and begins to splash cold water onto his face. Looking up into the mirror above the sink, the rational part of his mind reminds him that he has nothing to feel about guilty about. The pale reflection with blushing cheeks that stares back at him says otherwise. 

***

Over the next two weeks, Meg visits three more times before Dean is set to leave for Japan. On the morning of the fourth visit, Cas pokes at his stack of fresh pancakes, covered in whipped cream and blueberry syrup. He’s unable to eat them because his stomach feels taut and stretched beyond comprehension. Tomorrow, Dean will be leaving for Japan and this morning is the final check in before Meg starts to stay for longer. 

The earlier anger from when Dean had first told him about the trip no longer boils hotly within Cas. Instead the departure date has skyrocketed his anxiety, intensifying the sense of monophobia that interacts with his agoraphobia and feeds into his depression. 

“C’mon, Cas, you gotta eat something.” Dean’s already eaten his own stack of pancakes, hands wrapped around a mug of black coffee. 

“Not hungry.” 

“You hardly ate a thing last night. C’mon, you gotta eat, angel.” Dean’s hand rests on Castiel’s and squeezes. 

“No.” 

“Seriously, you’re gonna go full toddler on me?” 

Cas stays silent. 

“Eat your pancakes.” 

_Maybe breakfast won’t end if I just stay here and not eat. Breakfast, most important meal of the day… Can’t start your day without it… Can’t—_

Dean gets up from his seat opposite Castiel. He sits down beside Cas and begins to cut up his boyfriend’s pancakes. Dean’s used to this. Used to Cas becoming overwhelmed and ceasing to function as he slips deeper inside his own head. Spearing chopped pancake onto the fork, Dean strokes Cas’s thigh reassuringly and waits for his boyfriend to open his mouth. 

Three passes of Dean’s hand along Cas’s leg and Cas opens his mouth, accepting the syrup and cream covered cake. Dean watches as Cas carefully chews and swallows. 

“That’s good, Cas. Good.” Dean readies another forkful of pancake. “More.” 

Cas has slowly become neglectful over the last few days. Forgetting to shower once. Not getting dressed twice. Hardly eating the night before. 

Slowly feeding Cas his breakfast, Dean hides his worry with an encouraging smile, face frozen in a mask. Cas hasn’t been this bad in years. Guilt sits in his own stomach, sloshing poorly with his own pancakes and coffee. 

Sullen is not the word Dean would use to describe Cas as he feeds him. Cas is withdrawing in on himself. When you already don’t go outside, there’s not much else a person can do, other than choose to withdraw entirely from their own personal space, ignoring the reality of their body and its needs. Gradually becoming catatonic. 

Dean has witnessed Cas like this once before and now—looking at Cas as he listlessly chews on the cooling pancakes that Dean is sliding into his mouth—that Dean is really, _really_ beginning to worry about what his trip may mean for Cas. He continues to stroke Cas’s leg, hoping that the contact will keep Cas here. 

The last time Cas had been near this state was four years ago. It had lasted only a month, but that had been long enough. Sometimes Dean still dreams about walking into the hospital and heading to the private room where Cas was alive, but frozen inside himself. Gabriel stroking Cas’s hand. Gabe’s usually mirthful amber eyes wet and dark as he looked after his little brother who stared sightlessly, mute. Anna had walked in, sadness lining her face, and hugged Dean. Neither said Jimmy was dead, but Dean knew, had heard it on his cell the moment he took the phone call from Gabe screaming at him to get his ass to Mercy. 

Finally the pancakes are all gone, just a trail of whipped cream and syrup to mark their moment in this world. It had taken two years for the county to replace the sign the drunk driver had smashed Jimmy’s car into, the only visible mark outside Castiel’s family that Jimmy had ever existed. 

Kissing Castiel’s cheek, Dean says quietly, “Nice going on eating your breakfast, slugger.” 

“You’ll be home before I know it, right?” Cas says, voice hoarse, like he hasn’t used it in a while. 

Dean kisses Cas’s cheek again. “That’s right, baby boy. I’ll be back before you know it. But you gotta put up with me for another day first.” 

There’s a small nod from Cas and then he turns and hugs Dean, twisting in his seat to do so. Dean hugs Cas back, stroking his hair and making soothing noises. _Hell, if I gotta work 80 hour weeks to get this shit sorted ahead of schedule, I’m gonna do it._

The doorbell rings.


	8. Chapter 8

Meg's visits have decreased in awkwardness, but when she catches sight of Cas, her eyes widen despite her outward veneer of professionalism. She'd read Cas's case file carefully of course, but this was the first time she'd seen such a clear manifestation of his illness. 

_Clarence ain't looking so good._

She flashes Dean a small smile and puts a comforting hand on Cas's upper arm and guides him to the living room. He trudges along in her wake like a duckling following its mother. 

Meg looks into his face as she settles him down onto the couch and those electric blue peepers that'd always made her heart stupidly go pitter pat are dull and distant. 

Dean hovers nearby, clearly anxious, and out of the corner of her eye she notices him clenching and unclenching his fists over and over as he clearly fights the urge to go to his boyfriend and lay a grounding hand on him. 

He's racked by fine tremors in fact, probably vibrating with the restrained urge to scoop Cas into his arms and forcibly drag him back to the present. 

Meg's heart twinges in sympathy. 

Vibrant, kaleidoscope hurricane Castiel, unnaturally still, mute, chest barely moving with slow shallow breaths. 

Dean clears his throat and Meg realizes she's been caught staring. 

"Alright?" 

_This is so far from alright, alright got on a plane to Hawaii, in an alternate dimension where poodles are roasted for Luaus._

Scorn nearly breaks the surface, but instead Meg favours Dean with a bland professional smile that betrays nothing, even as her fingers tremble around the edges of Cas's Ipad.  
"Somehow didn't see this right away, silly me," she says, taking one of Cas's (cold, pale) hands and wrapping it around the tablet. The resulting slow clumsy grip makes her think of a baby wrapping its fingers around a thumb. 

_Christ, Dean isn't even gone yet._

Meg glances back at Dean and her teeny tiny lump of coal heart cracks just a bit at the poorly concealed pain lurking in those seaglass green eyes. His smile is brittle as he looks down and mumbles, "Of course. I gotta go to work."  
He meets her gaze squarely then, jaw tight, muscles working under the hinge.  
"Take care of him, Meg." and it's only half-plea, but her detached professionalism is further threatened by how her heart melts. For Dean fucking Winchester. 

Her smile softens until it's sad but genuine. "Yeah, don't worry, I got this." 

The man before her, looking hunched against a fierce wind as he trudges towards the door, was the dorky kid who was way too enthusiastic about shop class and somehow managed to take the wrestling team to state while juggling advanced physics and math. 

They'd taken shop together and gained an uneasy camaraderie, full of sarcasm and half-hearted digs during the traditional post-shop smoke break. 

On a handful of especially shitty days, they'd shared a few shotgun kisses made possible via weed stolen out of her mom's stash. Earthy smoke had curled heavy in her mouth as she blew it into Dean’s open, too plush lips, and their hands had glided slowly along each-other’s bodies. Sometimes this had turned into the press of Dean’s squared off fingers inside of her or her hand lazily stroking his cock inside of his jeans. Once, it’d been his hands buried deep in her hair while she sucked him down like a popsicle. 

They'd never been a thing, exactly, but they'd shared a certain understanding. An I see you, you see me INXS "one of my kind" type deal. Having shared interests in classic rock and cars (as well as mutual suffering under an alcoholic parent) will do that. 

Things had gotten awkward between them once they'd realized they had a target of mutual affection—Cas. Meg's partner in biology and Dean's best friend. 

Though she’d been flirting with Cas all through the fall and winter, it was like coaxing a remarkably shy bird into her hand. The quiet withdrawn artist, with his intermittent bursts of ferocious anger at perceived injustices and pure serenity when he got caught up in their biology textbook illustrations, had been a fascinating puzzle. When he finally seemed to realize that she wanted a physical relationship and that all of her flirting was not just teasing, he’d been clumsy but eager. 

When spring came, Cas had just figured out kissing and things had gotten to second base (edging on third). The same day his mouth and hands left her gasping, shaking and wet, pulsing with need, Meg confessed to Dean what had been happening and that they probably shouldn’t toke up together anymore. 

She’ll never forget the guilty (and adorable) blush Dean got then, as he stammered out that he’d been thinking the same thing, because he was in love with his best friend. Dean had had everything, stupid golden boy, and she'd just been trash from the wrong side of the tracks with a junkie dealer for a mother and an abusive alcoholic dick of a father, after all. She couldn't compete with that. 

During the last wrestling match before their team went to state championships, she'd had one last make-out session with Cas in the supply area of the gym, before breaking things off. The way he looked at Dean while he wrestled, basically half-naked with other guys, had made Cas’s feelings all too clear. 

But that was a long time ago. She'd gotten out. She's made something of herself. She helps people now, gives them the care and support no one ever offered her parents. Yeah, they'd been pieces of shit, but it wasn't all their fault. Losing a kid will do that to people. Nevermind that she'd lost a sister, too. Some assholes are so self-involved they can't see the what-they-have-left trees for the what-they've-lost forest. 

"Hey, hey Cas, you in there?" she asks kindly, as she hears the front door shut. 

His blue eyes shine with panic, pupils blown. "Dean?" The tablet slides from nerveless fingers onto his lap and bounces off next to him on the couch. 

"Just at work, Clarence. He'll be back, alright?" Meg winces inside at the slip, but gathers Cas's hands in her own. 

"Of course. He'll be back," Cas mumbles robotically through bloodless lips. 

"Soooo..." Meg says, giving his hands (long, elegant, perfect artist hands like she'd remembered) a squeeze. "What would you like to do today?" 

Cas's expression is shuttered. "Do? What is there to be done?" He's a hollow echo of himself, indistinct and washed out like a watercolor painting. 

"I'm sure we can think of something!" 

Something turned out to be the playing the slowest, most frustrating game of "sorry" in recorded history. Cas drifts off for minutes at a time, cards in hand and gaze impossibly distant. 

Meg tries not to think about what Dean is going to have to deal with when it's time to say "TTFN"... after all, she'll be the one there to pick up the pieces, and why worry about tomorrow's problems today?


	9. Chapter 9

It takes the rest of Meg’s visit to bring Cas back to himself. He’s talking and interested in his surroundings by the time that Dean returns from the office. Cas even manages to feed himself dinner. 

“A little slow tonight, isn't it?” Jack asks the barman he’s imagining. 

Dean’s put _The Shining_ on and Cas is bored and fidgeting. Hands uncurling and curling as they lay in his lap, legs crossed underneath him on the couch. Normally he’d happily rewatch the film with Dean, but normally Dean isn’t leaving for Japan in the morning. 

Watching Jack is making Cas uneasy. He keeps glancing over at Dean and trying to say something, but the words keep stilling on his lips. Talking, Cas begins to realize, is not what he wants or needs right now. 

Dean reaches out an arm to Cas and he allows himself to be drawn into a cuddle on the couch, legs sliding out sideways from under him to drag over the soft blue fabric. He’s like a reluctant cat being picked up, not too sure about the show of affection, claws ready. 

Disinterest growing, Cas starts eyeing up Dean again. Dean’s face is lit up by the TV screen, lips temptingly parted, gaze engrossed with the film. 

“ _Dean _,” he mutters into the side of his boyfriend’s neck.__

 _ _“Hmm?”__

 _ _

Castiel turns, tugging Dean with him, and drops next to him by the couch. He restrains Dean with one hand on his chest and with the other undoes his pants, icy determination etched on his features. 

_Oh fuck, he’s in one of those moods. This could be really awesome or it could be really damn bad._ “Cas—” 

“Silence. You will open your mouth only to receive me.” Cas hisses, tugging his pants open to reveal that he’s already hard. Goosebumps prickle along Dean’s spine and he shudders. 

Shelly Winters whimpers on the t.v. as Dean bites his lip and looks up at Cas through half-lowered lashes, dazed. Cas straddles Dean, pinning his shoulders with his knees, feet tucked in on either side of Dean’s ribcage. “Baby—” 

Castiel scowls down at him, frosty and imperious. “Open.” 

“Ca—” Cas cuts Dean off by rocking his hips forward, hard dick pressing up against his lips as Cas gets what passes for bangs on the front of Dean’s head and yanks backward. 

“Eat it.” 

Dean squirms, turning his head. “N-no.” 

“You have the sheer unmitigated _gall_ to deny me?” Cas rubs his erection along Dean’s jaw, shuddering at the rasp of day-old stubble on his sensitive head. A trace of moisture registers on Dean’s skin. And it’s tempting. Fuck is it hot when Cas is all old testament, but— 

Dean’s voice is high, strained, cracking: “Angel, I don’t want it this way. Not tonight.” 

Cas is silent a moment, rubbing himself on the smoother skin of Dean’s neck, just under the jaw. “Do this for me.” 

“No.” 

“Dean—Dean, I, I _need—_ ” “Please, Dean. Don’t— don’t make me—” Cas’s weight shifts, and he’s shuffled back on his heels, hot tears soaking Dean’s shirt as blood streams out of an elevator on the television. 

Arms free, Dean cards a hand through Cas’s hair, settling near the nape of his neck before snugging his crown in under Dean’s jaw. “Baby— shh… it’s okay.” 

“How can you even waste the breath to say something so utterly ridiculous and patently false—” 

“It’s gonna be okay. I promise you. I haven’t let you down yet. I’m not gonna start now.” 

Snakes twisting in his gut, Castiel can only contemplate what a disappointment he’s turned out to be to Dean. To his family. To everyone. Hell probably even the fans of his comic, because he’s been updating less than usual to try to squeeze in every last second he can get of Dean before he leaves. Bleakly, he mutters, “All I do is let you down. All I do is fall apart. Fraying at the seams like a cheap rug.” 

Dean tugs Castiel back to look at him. “Hey! Hey now! That is totally not true. You are kicking ass every single damn day, kicking _my ass_ , too, as long as I’ve freaking known you. You’re going to keep being awesome and one of these days when I go back to Japan, you’re coming with. End of.” 

Cas avoids his gaze. “It’s not so simple.” 

“Then make it simple. You’ve got me in your corner, so of freaking course you’ll beat this thing someday. Just like you helped me get over the whole airplanes are flying metal death traps thing, right?” 

“Well, you did half the work for me, being an engineer…” 

Dean tugs Castiel back down. “Yeah, and _as an engineer_ , I can tell you just how damn poorly most of those things are maintained. They drop parts all the frigging time. And you can quote statistics all you like, but— whatever. The point is I’m cool now. Mostly. And some day you will be, too.” 

This is so far from what Cas wants. Now. The coming months. His life. Letting out a shuddering breath, on the verge of clawing off Dean’s face or crying (he’s not sure which), Cas fists Dean’s shirt. The film plays on and Cas doesn’t watch. Tilting his head, Cas presses his lips over Dean’s carotid, feeling the pulse there and breathes him in, like he can just draw Dean into himself, make Dean a part of him forever. 

The film runs on and Cas ignores it until finally it ends. He doesn’t want to let Dean go, but he knows they can’t stay in this position on the couch the entire night. Dean gently brushes a hand across Cas’s back. 

“C’mon. Bed.” 

Reluctantly, Cas pulls away from Dean. Looking down at his boyfriend’s rumpled shirt and messed up hair, Cas closes his eyes a second and breathes heavily through his nose. He’s still incredibly tense and charged. Wants to mould Dean to his will, give and take what he wants. 

Castiel climbs off of Dean and offers a hand to help him up. Dean accepts his hand and Cas helps Dean to his feet and then pulls him into an embrace. Clinging, body flush and warm, hands stroking and touching all they can reach. Trying to burn Dean’s shape into memory. Store his textures. Cas pushes his nose in below Dean’s jaw and breathes him again, committing the smells to a pocket of his mind that he’ll be able to open up in the coming months. 

But Cas can feel himself getting hard again and he wonders what Dean wants. Wonders if Dean would like a piece of him. _Just let me take you. Please._ Cas bites at Dean’s neck and sucks. Each rough movement is Cas begging Dean to let him fuck Dean. He rubs himself against Dean. Castiel’s hands tear at Dean’s clothes and then change target. Instead Cas starts to push and pull at Dean’s limbs. Cas is demanding and insistent, painfully trying to bend Dean this way and that. There’s a moan from Dean, and a hand reaches out to Cas’s shoulder and holds him still. 

“No,” says Dean, but his voice lacks the firmness of conviction. 

Looking up at Dean, Cas flares his nostrils and grits his teeth. “We need this right now.” 

“No, I need you. I don’t need this. Two different things.” Dean strokes Castiel’s stubbled jaw. 

Staring back in disbelief, Cas doesn’t understand how Dean can separate these aspects of his self. The Castiel that is sweet and loving is always running alongside the Cas that wants to lay a claim and be damned of the consequences. Control is being wrested from Cas and he does not like it one single bit. He glares at Dean. 

“Cas, I…” Dean licks his lips, unconsciously sexual. "I want…” biting down on his lower lip, he looks away, fingers gliding down Castiel’s chest to mock him and deny him. A nervous exhale stutters out of Dean. Cas jerks his shoulders back, pulling his chest out of reach, then takes a big step back, then another. 

Eyes flashing, Cas scowls at Dean. “When you figure out _what_ , precisely, it is you wish, please inform me. For now, I must take my leave of you, before I do something to cause further regret.” Cas storms off, heading upstairs and to their bedroom. He sequesters himself inside their en suite and slides down to the floor, back against their bath. 

Dean is frozen where Cas left him. “Damnit, Cas...”

__


	10. Chapter 10

The small bungalow looks warm and inviting as Meg pulls up outside. Sweet and droll, she thinks, but the longer she stares at Dean and Castiel’s home, the more she thinks she can feel the distress of its inhabitants oozing out from its windows and front door. A flood of regret and drama pooling deep inside, waiting to sweep her up. No safe island in the middle of the stream that she can wade through. 

Putting on her best professional smile, Meg climbs out of her car and locks it. Tires roll behind her, and she turns to see an unfamiliar car pull up behind hers. A tall, ungainly guy climbs out, hair longer than it has a right to be. There’s something familiar about him, but she takes no notice until they both walk up to Dean and Castiel’s front door. 

“Hey, are you… Meg? Gabe hired you, right?” The tall guy awkwardly smiles at Meg and she flashes her work smile back. 

“Yep, Meg Masters at your service and you are?” 

“Sam,” Sam holds out his hand, “Winchester. Dean’s little brother.” 

_Right, little_ , and Meg has vague recollections of some rakish, bookish middle schooler getting rides from Dean after school was out. She recalls Dean saying something about his brother giving him a lift to the airport. 

Meg shakes the offered hand. “Sam, nice to finally meet you.” 

“Likewise. Dean’s been singing your praises already,” says Sam, but there’s just a note of hesitation there. Meg doesn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes flick to the door and his brow furrows just that tiny bit more. _He’s worried what we’re going to find inside too._

Meg thumbs the keys in the pocket of her leather jacket. There’s one for the house on her keyring, but she’s only meant to use it if no one answers the door after three rings. Sam doesn’t do a thing except continuing to look like a moose in disguise. 

“Well, one of us better ring that doorbell,” Meg says in a joking voice. _And hell, when did I become so disgustingly good at being so abhorrently chipper?_

Sam obliges and the the bell chimes. There’s the distant sound of floorboards moving inside the house and then Dean opens the door. It’s hard not to spot the dark circles under his eyes and the way his hair’s flatter than usual. The look tells Meg “tough night” and she doesn’t ask the obvious as the despair laps at her feet and fills her shoes. 

“Hey Sam, Meg. Ready to get this show on the road?” 

Sam nods. 

“He eaten?” Meg asks as Dean lets them inside. 

“Yeah, if you can call two mouthfuls of Froot Loops and a swig of coffee breakfast.” Dean stands beside his packed cases and bags, arms crossed over his chest. 

Sam steps up to Dean and puts a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Did he feed himself?” 

Meg wants to do more with Dean. Wrap her arms around him. Reassure him with kisses like he used to for her when she was going through hell. 

“Yeah.” Dean sighs. 

“Well that’s progress. Where is he?” Meg pulls out a hair elastic and puts her hair up in a loose bun. 

“Couch.” 

Meg’s here for Cas now, not Dean. _I’ll let “little” brother handle him._ “I’ll see what I can do.” 

Entering the living room, Meg sees Castiel’s socked feet and ankles first, slung out over the arm of the couch. He’s laid out on his stomach, arms under his head like he’s adrift on a liferaft and is clinging on for dear life as it races through flood swollen rapids. Meg can hear his panicked breathing from behind the couch. 

The creaking floorboards send a shiver through Cas and he looks up as Meg swims into view, crouching on the floor beside his head. He knows his face is a mess from crying. Eyes red and watery, and he doesn’t want to be seen like this, but he can’t help looking at Meg when she talks. 

“Hey. Sam’s here to take Dean to the airport.” 

_Don’t want him to go. Don’t want him to go._

“We gonna get up and say some goodbyes?” 

_But it’s going to hurt so much more than lying here._

“Dean wants to see your beautiful face.” 

_It’s not beautiful._

“I’ll make you PB and J once he’s gone, but only if you get up and come with me to say bye.” 

Castiel’s stomach loudly groans at the mention of food. _Food might be good_. He nods in reply. 

Easing himself up onto his knees, Cas kneels on the couch and steps off of it. Blood rushes to his head. He over-balances and Meg has to put out a hand to stop him from crashing to the floor. Leather and almonds wash over Cas and he’s behind the mats again. All anxious kisses, eager fumblings and low moans. 

“Cas?” Meg raises an eyebrow. 

“D-Dean.” 

“Right.” Meg takes Cas’s hand and leads him gently out of the living room and into the front hallway. 

“I’ll drop by with Bones often. You know that.” Sam slaps Dean on the back. The bags and suitcases are all gone, presumably already loaded into Sam’s car. “Take the Impala out so the battery’s fine.” 

Dean half smiles and nods. He notices Cas and his eyes suddenly seem shinier. 

_This is really happening._ Cas starts finding it hard to breathe. A small hand comes to rest on the center of his back. 

“It’s not for forever,” says Meg, voice small. “You can do this.” 

Stepping forward, Cas swallows and tries his best not to cry. “So.” 

“So.” Dean takes a step towards Cas. 

Heart thudding so hard it feels like his chest will burst, Cas flings his arms around Dean’s neck and pulls him close. Burying his face in his boyfriend, Cas breathes in Dean’s usual scent of leather and spice, wraps Dean all over his senses. Tongue flicking out and dragging against the skin he can reach. Hands touching, stroking and caressing. He can feel Dean’s breath stuttering, feel the sadness inside him collapsing like a neutron star and pulling him in. 

But Cas doesn’t orbit Dean. He is a part of Dean. They’re being pulled apart, but for these few seconds Cas believes that they will find each other again no matter what. The draw impossible to avoid forever. 

“Okay, angel. You can let go of me now.” 

Fingers uncurling, Cas looks to Dean with bright shiny eyes. “Skype?” 

“As soon as I’m settled in.” Dean pulls Cas into a kiss that tastes like goodbye, and the clawing sensation of too little air from forgetting to breathe hits him. 

“Dean—” 

“It’ll be alright. Time to go. Too bad I don’t like sushi. I’ll send you a pic and a review of every ramen place I eat at so you can see what you’re missing out on, huh?” Rambling is all that’s left for Dean as he attempt to disengage his limbs from Castiel’s, despite how little he wants to let go. 

_I need the space. I need to do this for work. Don’t—shit, don’t look at those huge puppy dog eyes you can and in fact, have, drowned in before. Dammit Winchester, frigging hold it together!_

Dean’s hyper-aware of Sam and Meg carefully not looking at him, waiting just in the wings. _Yeah. Ok. Yeah._ Leaning in, his whisper reaches Cas’s ear alone as he whispers. “We’re gonna have such dirty phone-sex, baby. You’re gonna have lots of time to get real inventive for when I finally get home again.” 

Castiel shudders, hands digging into his pant legs so he doesn’t grab Dean again. Dean can feel him vibrating with the repressed urge from the barely there space between them, hear his sharp intake of breath. He backs off and throws Cas’s shocked face a wink as he pivots and strides out the front door. 

_Shock and awe_ , Dean thinks with a mental chuckle. _Works every damn time._ He waves at Meg and climbs into Sam’s crappy minivan. 

Looking over through the window, he sees Meg putting a hand on one of Cas’s shoulders before leaning in close to him, lips moving. Sam claps Cas on the shoulder before coming out the door and goes around to the other side of the car. 

“Well,” his little brother says, “I don’t know what you did, but it worked.” 

Dean buckles in and slouches low onto his seat. “Cas is like a kid in some ways; you distract him with talk of food and sex and he loses track of what’s happening.” 

“Eww! Sounds unsanitary…” Sam puts the key in and turns the engine over, before waving reflexively at Cas and Meg. 

“Ehh. If you do it right, that’s where it gets really good.” Dean grins wickedly, then wider still with Sam’s ensuing expression of mild horror.  
“You’re such a shriking violet, Sammy.” 

“Whatever. Excuse me if I’m not interested in aiding and abetting you using gross machismo to cover up your feelings.” 

Dean looks in the sideview mirror, and feigns casualness, picking at his teeth. “What?” 

“You just left your _husband_ behind—” 

“Boyfriend, Sammy.” 

“Your _live-in boyfriend of twelve years_ , Dean.” 

“Well, he ain’t going anywhere. That’s for sure…” Dean smirks. “Kinda stuck with me, that way.” 

“For the love of— stop using your low self-esteem as an excuse to deny how much you mean to him! He couldn’t even see you out to the car!” 

After a couple of minutes of sullen silence while Dean picks at a seam in his slacks, he finally mumbles, “One day he’s gonna get out again. He’s gonna realize what I and everyone else who looks at him already knows—that he’s fucking hot, wicked smart, and a great damn guy that anyone would be lucky to have. And when that day comes, he ain’t gonna back my pony.” 

“ _Dean— _”__

 _ _“He ain’t a dope, Sam. One day he’s gonna realize just how damn far the wool’s been pulled over his eyes, and that’ll be it.”__

 _ _

Sam sighs. “After _everything_ you’ve done for him, you still think that?” 

“I know that. Now fucking shut up already, before we both need frigging tampons.” 

Rolling his eyes, Sam turns up the radio. It fills the silence for the remainder of the drive.

__


	11. Chapter 11

The first week is pretty bad, but it isn’t the worst. Cas keeps turning around, expecting to see Dean, or hear his voice, or thinking he sees or hears him. The fresh barb of pain he feels digs in just a little deeper every time. The house seems too large and too small at the same time. Cas entertains fantasies of leaving, of walking out into the sunshine, and Dean would be there, smiling and leaning against the Impala with that crooked grin he first stole from Cas and then made his own. 

Castiel spends a lot of time checking the window. Listlessly walking from one room to another of the house in a trance it’s nearly impossible to shake him from when Meg isn’t there. Having her around is usually comforting, though she spends more time goading Castiel into doing things than being gentle and supportive, the worse he gets. 

By the end of the second week, it’s really sunk in that Dean isn’t coming home anytime soon. Hell, that he isn’t home at all. Castiel’s silences start to get longer and longer. Dean does manage to Skype call him, and it’s only after those times that he eats with any enthusiasm at all. 

The third week finds Castiel furiously drawing page after page of his comic, gesture drawings of convoluted actions and Hell imagery that he crumples, rips and shreds, face completely blank while tears slowly fall. Meg softly asks him then, if he wants her to stay the night. He says yes. 

When the fourth week comes, Castiel has started to become numb. He wonders if his memories of the past years are real at all. If ever knew someone as beautiful as Dean, got to have him body and soul, or if he was always just a face and voice on a screen. Hearing all about Dean’s travels in Japan is very exciting, but the disappointment, envy, and self-hatred he feels that he’s not with the love of his life to share it threatens to drown him. 

Dean works crazy 16 hour days in a completely incompatible time-zone, but they do manage to have “phone-sex” once. A low string of guttural curses and snarls as they gasped and shook for each-other. It didn’t last long—it couldn’t from sheer necessity— but Dean later tells Cas he was overheard. 

Which lead to his co-worker who overheard him inveigling him to go out, just the two of them. To what turned out to be a swingers club in the Roppongi district of Tokyo. Which lead to a fistfight. Which lead to Dean no longer having any private time to himself as he was watched like a hawk on threat of “losing further face.” All of which meant no real communication from Dean. The lifeline sustaining Cas was ripped out of his hands for the time being. 

***

Cassiel is lost in the woods of purgatory. On all sides, the rustle of the undergrowth announces the werewolves are closing in. 

“No,” she mutters, jaw set with grim determination. 

Daley had fallen through the earth with the alpha werewolf and been swallowed by this place; the unending grey makes telling the passage of time impossible. It feels like Cassiel has always been here, searching, skirting one fringe of forest after the other. 

Low growls heralds the wolves’s growing impatience. 

A snarl later, Cassiel is been pinned under the weight of five wolves. She is powerless without the use of her wings to escape this godforsaken place. 

"Clarice," a wolf drawls, incongruous with the furry muzzle and sharp teeth on her neck. 

"What? Me—Martin?" 

"That's right." 

A hot sticky rush of blood washes over her as the wolf is stabbed through the neck. 

"Here I am, to save the day," Martin sings in a cheesy baritone, and despite the other wolves biting and clawing at him, Cassiel can't help cracking a smile. 

"It's gonna be okay. You just sit tight, agent Starling!" 

Martin carves a sigil in blood onto his chest and morphs into Meg as the wolves rush from the edge of the forest in an unceasing tide. 

Time is frozen as multiple fountains of blood erupt from every wolf's mouth and eyes. 

They collapse and burst into pillars of flame where they fall. 

Cassiel gapes in awe. "What are you?" 

“Thought you knew." The rushing air blows back Meg's hair in long waves as she strides forward. 

Through eyes watering with smoke and burnt fur, Cassiel beholds her saviour as she kneels and smiles at him. 

"Hello, I'm Meg and I'm a demon." She reaches out and strokes Cassiel’s bloody cheek, a cool swipe through the hot ichor. 

Cas awakens with a gasp. _I know what I must do._

***

“Meg.” Cas’s expression is unusually hard to decipher; he’d been drifting in and out on her all day. Not being able to talk to Dean this week was really unhinging the poor guy. Sam had even brought Bones over this morning and dropped the dog off for puppy therapy before he went to work. 

“Yeah?” She puts her magazine beside her on the couch. 

Castiel comes in front of her and crouches down, hands on either side of her knees. Meg bats down the butterflies trying to fly up through her chest. _No Meg, don’t be inappropriate. You’ve got a job to do._

He looks up at Meg through long eyelashes, blinking slowly while licking his lips in a motion that reminds her distinctly of Dean. _What is he—_

“You _know_ what I want,” Castiel growls, slow and molten like lava. A flush rises up the back of her neck but Meg keeps her expression neutral. “What I _need_.” His hand travels up, curling over one knee. 

“Look Clarence, I’m gonna have to stop you right there, mm’kay? Not your boyfriend.” 

“It is of little import.” Cas’s other hand cups her other knee, and boy can this not be going anywhere good— Meg tries to squirm out from under the touch, but Castiel’s electric blue eyes are boring into hers, stare pinning her in place as he strokes his thumbs on the sensitive backs of her knees before wresting them apart. 

Breath catching in her throat, it’s all Meg can do to not let her eyes slide shut. She focuses on breathing. This is far from the first time this type of thing has happened, but it is the first time it’s been _Cas_. 

“We could live for a thousand years...” he purrs, “and if I should hurt you babe, I’d turn your tears into wine.” He’s nearly closed the distance; his lips are hovering right near Meg’s own. 

“Don’t quote INXS at me.” Meg shoves at Cas’s chest. “I’m not some kind of stand-in for Dean. I’m here to make sure you don’t shit yourself and go to sleep in it, not get your damn rocks off.” 

Cas’s face goes white and crumples, like cheap paper in a careless hand. “Meg, I…” He backs away. “You were dear to me once. You’ve become dear to me again. I didn’t— didn’t mean—” 

“Sure you didn’t. But it’s not like you’d be sniffing around me if _your husband_ wasn’t away. If he hadn’t gotten himself in a bind last week.” Meg picks her magazine back up and snaps it straight in a show of studied indifference. 

“Go back to the drawing board, _Castiel._ ” 

Castiel’s feet carry him at an embarrassingly fast pace back into his office. He slams down onto his swivel chair and grips the side of his desk hard, his knuckles going white. Eyes fixed somewhere to the left of a big screen print of a splash page from his comic. He has to keep reminding himself to breathe as he tries desperately not to reflect on what he just tried. 

_Fuck_. His hand tries to leave the desk, but he won’t let it and continues to cling for life and sanity. The wall across the room begins to blur and he knows his cock isn’t going down, but he can’t do anything about it. Can’t do what he wants. 

Guilt and regret lap at him and he doesn’t want to give into those either, because he still feels that charge of need thrumming through him and electrifying his pulse. Electricity and water don’t mix and Cas knows this. But he wants the pain. Frying himself in the process isn’t a problem for him. 

The tiny voice in the back of his head that normally speaks up for Dean is having some problems being heard right now. The lack of Skyping was having an effect and Cas couldn’t stop himself from blaming Dean. 

Castiel's right hand drops away from the desk. He rubs at himself through his slacks and closes his eyes. His pulse slows, but not by much. Going to his room would be too obvious and he’d jerked off at his desk before. 

A look over his shoulder shows him Meg’s distant feet in the living room. Thoughts of quietly masturbating die. Cas doesn’t want to substitute his hand for another warm body. Not when Meg is here. But she’s more than a warm body to him. She may have broken up with Cas, but he still feels for her. Still feels a draw if he lets himself contemplate her full lips and full everything for longer than a second. 

He’s her client. Her charge. That shouldn’t make him hot, but it does. She could quit of course, but she can’t leave him now. _My very own sexy nurse_ , he muses, smile somewhat twisted as he gasps and strokes faster. _Wonder what’d it look like with her breasts falling out of scrubs? If she was leaning over and I just yanked down_ — Cas bites his lip and squirms, mouth falling open. The office is very warm, suffocating. 

_This is intolerable._

Castiel get back to his feet and stalks forward into the living room. He rips Meg’s magazine out of her hands. 

“Nice, Clarence. _Real_ mature. Let mommy have her rag back?” Meg flaps her hand, gesturing for him to give it back. 

“No. _Look at me, Megan_.” Cas’s slacks are visibly tented and his nipples can be seen, hard and pebbled through the worn sheer fabric of his shirt. 

“Uh-huh. Yep. _Definitely a dude_.” But he can see how her pupils have gone wide, how the brown of her irises has darkened to nearly black. 

“I want you, and in return I do not ask you do _anything_ for me.” Cas’s eyes blaze and his voice is so low and gravelly it’s barely distinguishable. “I will take you apart.” Cas glides in, predatory, closing the distance, and Meg seems stuck on the couch, pinned by the sheer force of his desire. 

“Look, Cas, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted—” 

“Good.” Cas strokes his hand up her cheek, cradling her jaw. “Then give yourself over to me.” Her pulse jumps under his palm and he holds her gaze, trying to etch himself into the jumble of emotions struggling to break through there. 

Meg turns her head away. “ _But_ ,” she says, popping the b, hard on the t, “this _ain’t_ my first rodeo. You’re ill and lonely and it’s not me you want. That aside, it’s _wrong_ and you are my _client_.” 

Cas shakes his head and then bores his gaze into Meg’s again. “Oh, I _want you_.” 

“Let me put it into two little letters so you can understand: N. O.” Meg does get up then, snatching her magazine back. Cas places a hand on her shoulder and holds her stare as he pushes down his pants and takes out his cock. 

“It is _you_. I am hard for _you_ , Meg. Just like when we were children.” 

Thank Christ Cas insists on staring at her, because it would otherwise be taking every single ounce of her willpower to _not look down_. “That was then and this is now,” she mutters, completely unconvincing. He gives a long slow stroke of his dick then, and her eye is drawn by the motion despite herself. _Oh my_. 

“It can _be_ now,” Cas insists, hooking his waistband back and settling himself back inside. “Let me reaccquaint your wet silky folds with the feeling of my fingers and tongue stroking inside of them.” 

This startles a laugh out of Meg. “Okay, first off? You sound like a terrible romance novel. Second? We never got that far.” 

“Let me,” Cas husks, tongue sliding out— and _holy shit was it always that ridiculously long?_ “I know it must have some appeal— the sheer idea of someone who has only lain with a man for so long doing that to you. You could teach me. From scratch. Because I will know only you.” 

Meg shudders all over, resolve starting to crumble. 

The cascading chime of the front door bell pings into Meg’s awareness. Neither of them moves. 

A second ring peals through the house. 

Still neither manages to react with something approaching the act of going to the door. Meg is frozen to her spot, eyes wide on Cas. 

The third sounding of the chime plays. 

Keys turn in the door and neither Meg or Cas moves.


	12. Chapter 12

“Yo! You guys okay?” Sam calls from the front hallway. 

Cas blinks his eyes, as if he’s being pulled out of a trance. Bones suddenly skids into the living room, claws scratching on the floorboards. The golden retriever slides to a halt beside Cas and Meg. 

Bones barks. Castiel grabs two armfuls of books and dumps them on the ground as quietly as possible. Then he kicks them around with his foot. Meg looks on, amused, and tilts the bookshelf slightly. 

“They in there?” Sam calls. 

Bones barks again. 

Meg gets on her knees and grabs a book; Cas gathers a few books and pauses with them in his hands. 

“Hey Sam!” Meg looks up and gives Sam her professional smile. 

Cas puts the books away and gives Sam a two-fingered wave. “Hello, Sam.” 

“Hey! You two okay? The door—” 

“I believe Bones got a little over-excited when he heard your car approach.” Castiel gives Sam a wan smile and bends to pick up more books while Meg stands up with the ones she’s gathered. 

“Bones!” Sam goes over to his dog and kneels beside him. “I thought we were past the clutz phase.” Sam dodges his dog’s tongue as he rubs Bone’s head. 

_Yes, Dean’s blamed farts on the dog before, why not blame an attempt to tongue fuck—_ Cas takes a deep breath and smiles at Sam. _Can’t think about that right now. No. Stop._ It’s a struggle to retain a veneer of control as he waits for Sam to stand back up. 

“I hope he hasn’t been too much trouble.” Sam gets back to his feet. 

“No, he’s been just swell,” replies Meg. Cas catches her gaze and there’s anger and hurt there, and maybe something else. 

“Oh, good. Get much done today?” Sam looks to Cas. 

“Uh, half a page.” Cas had managed that much, before he let himself be distracted. 

Sam grins. “Great. Look, I was gonna order Thai food. You in?” 

Meg shakes her head. “Actually, I think I better head home. Stomach’s not feeling so great. But maybe another time.” 

“Sure, Meg. Anytime. Do you need a lift?” 

“Nah, I can still drive.” 

Cas feels his stomach clench at Meg’s excuse. _Damnit_. Cas’s lips thin and then he nods. “Thai sounds good.” 

Meg begins to gather her things, picking up her discarded magazine. 

“Okay, well you figure out what you want, Cas and I’ll call them.” Sam looks to Bones.  
“And then the two of us can go get it.” 

Bones bounces up and licks Sam’s hand. 

Cas looks over to the main window and grimaces. He wishes he could join Sam and Bones outside. Just ask to come with. But that’s not going to happen. Not right here and now. The phantom scent of gunsmoke curls up through the back of his throat. 

Meg picks up her bag and heads for the front hallway. “Well,” she ducks out of view and then returns, “I’ll see you tomorrow Cas. Have fun guys.” 

“Hope you feel better soon,” Sam replies with sincerity. 

Cas manages to mumble something and then the front door is opening and closing again. _She’s gone_. Cas closes his eyes and tries to find some modicum of calm so he doesn’t completely freak out in front of Sam. He doesn’t want to break down again in front of Dean’s little brother, hates being weak in front of him. 

“C-can you find the menu? I just, yeah.” Cas strolls off, not waiting for Sam’s reply and heads upstairs and to his bathroom. 

Closing the door, Cas splashes his face with water and tries not to think about what he just tried to do. Ignores how achingly close he got to Meg and the way her eyes had shown what she wanted. And he’s hard again and annoyed. Undoing his slacks, Cas takes himself in hand and begins to stroke, to pump. The substitute was going to have to be enough. Would have to do. 

Fist speeding up, Cas sees Meg’s scrubs come down by his hand as he bends her over the couch and rubs his tongue in places that it’s never been before. He’s seen straight porn, so he has a reasonable idea of the mechanics. Too lazy to go into the bedroom and grab some lube, Cas spits down on himself and keeps stroking faster and harder, nose now buried in Meg and then he reaches a fist into his mouth as he cries, hips jerking, come splattering over the sink. 

“Cas, you alright man?” Sam yells up the stairs. 

_So not okay_. “Yes, sorry. Give me a minute.” 

Cas stares guilty into the mirror over the sink and isn’t sure he likes what he sees there.  
  


***

  


Dinner tastes fine. There’s no doubt about it and Sam is funny. Bones is adorable. Everything is fine except for Cas. He goes through the motions of eating and laughing at Sam’s jokes, but his responses are well rehearsed. 

“Any word from Dean?” 

A question he can answer, but really doesn’t want to. The answer’s “no” and he doesn’t want to think about how the week of radio silence is sending him to places that he hadn’t thought possible two months ago. 

“No... He can’t seem to find a second to do anything more than send me alphabet soup.” This is half true. There’s been some deeper substance to the odd message from Dean. Mostly grovelling, but mainly it’s been a drip of “ilu” and “ur hot” with winky faces. 

Sam frowns, forehead creasing in triplicate. “Dude, that really blows. I’ll try messaging him, too.” 

“Don’t bother.” 

“Hey…” Sam touches Cas’s elbow, settling one of his enormous hands around it. “Are you okay, man? Like really okay? You’ve seemed off since I came back today.” 

Cas clenches his chopsticks in his fists and looks down at his plate. His voice is small and broken. “I am not sure I like myself today.” _And many other past days_. 

“Did something happen?” Sam’s hand moves up to his shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze. 

“I have conducted myself inappropriately.” Cas dares to chance a look up at Sam’s face. 

Sam scrubs a hand through his hair. “Well… I can’t say I’m not surprised, because shit I did not expect that of you, Cas, but… you’re pretty messed up and she’s your ex. From forever and a day ago, but it’s true. You’re only human and we all know how…” Sam swallows and looks away. “Being alone is… not good for you.” 

“You can _say it_ , Sam. It’s not anything I’m not already thinking, I assure you.” 

Sam pulls him into a half-hug then, huge and awkward and heart-breakingly (rib-breakingly) sincere. “No pity parties, okay? This is a happy thoughts zone, you dig? Just breathe for me, buddy.” 

Blinking, Cas realizes that he isn’t breathing and draws in a long shuddering breath. Tears are pricking his eyes, because he doesn’t feel like he deserves this comfort. He’s not gonna cry though. Not in front of Sam. 

“That’s it.” Sam gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

Cas’s breathing normalizes and Sam lets go of Cas and returns to his plate of food. Staring down at what remains of his, Cas decides he doesn’t feel hungry anymore and puts his chopsticks down. 

“C’mon,” Sam says around a mouthful of rice, “can’t you eat six more mouthfuls for me?” 

Glancing between his cooling plate of food and Sam’s ridiculously earnest eyes, Cas gives in and picks his chopsticks up. Sam would just fuss over him if he didn’t eat more. Possibly insist on taking the couch for the night and Cas might need company, but he doesn’t want the “pity party”. 

They’re not huge mouthfuls, but Cas takes the six. Sam smiles approvingly after the sixth and announces that he got a tub of honey comb ice cream from this organic food deli that Cas likes. 

_I suppose… I could make room for ice cream._

Bones joins them in the living room and stares up hopefully at Cas as they eat the ice cream. Sam’s put on some true crime documentary about the Zodiac killer, but Cas is only half watching it. He can’t stop wondering what Meg did when she got home. 

Cas fidgets at first and then slides off of the couch and onto the floor beside Bones. He strokes and pets Sam’s dog, getting that place he likes having scratched around his ears. The documentary is well made, but Cas couldn’t settle on something to watch, which is why he let Sam indulge himself. 

An hour later and the documentary is over. 

“Well, we better head back home.” Sam’s stretching, fingers almost reaching the ceiling. 

Cas nods and strokes Bones. The dog’s eyes are half-closed and he keeps yawning. 

Sam bends down and hooks a lead on Bones’ collar. “Look, I’m… sure tomorrow will be fine. You’ve got my numbers: call me whenever.” 

Cas nods again and stands up. “I know… and I will, if I need to.” _Half-truth will have to do,_ Cas thinks, because if today’s events happen again he is pretty sure that he will not be phoning Sam. 

“Thanks for looking after this big softie.” Sam’s heading for the door and grabbing his jacket from the hooks in the hallway. 

Cas says ‘bye and so does Sam, and then he’s alone. The house yawning and empty around him. The night stretching on ahead.


	13. Chapter 13

The blinds aren’t open as Meg walks up to Cas and Dean’s house. Each step up to the front door leaves her questioning her resolve to come back today. She could have called in to her agency and got someone to cover her and ensure he was okay. She rings the front door bell. 

_Coulda, woulda, shoulda_ , Meg thinks to each ring and when the third doesn’t bring any movement from inside, she pulls out her key and unlocks the front door. Silence rests over everything and Meg stops berating herself. _A stranger couldn’t do this, go into Clarence’s home._

“Cas, it’s Meg!” 

There’s no response. _It’s not like he would go anywhere_ , Meg thinks bitterly, sadness still drawn out of her when she thinks about how much Castiel has changed since high school. 

Meg swallows and recalls how in the second week of caring for Cas, Jehovah's Witnesses came to the front door with copies of _The Watchtower_ they were trying to hand out. She had answered the door, but Cas had been left shaking and rocking on the couch. Cas had wandered from the kitchen to see what was going on. He’d gotten one look at the modestly dressed older couple and bolted from the hallway. 

It’s clear to Meg as she shuts the door behind her and hangs up her jacket that if someone else from the agency had come in her place, Castiel would have pretty much imploded. Still, it is going to be an awkward day. What was on offer yesterday was a temptation of sin far greater than any she’d faced in her career, because it was Cas. Sweet Clarence. Dean’s angel. 

_And ain’t that the icing on the cake? To finally get back some of my own from Dean?_ Meg reaches the foot of the stairs and looks up. She reaches a hand to the bannister and grimaces. _No, put those naughty forbidden fruit thoughts right out of your head, Masters. Cas chose Dean, Dean chose Cas. I’m just here to make sure this little angel doesn’t get more screwed up than he already is. Keep it warm, but keep it professional_. Meg nods to herself and begins to climb the stairs. At the top, she finds the door to Castiel’s room closed. 

“Cas, hey, it’s Meg,” she calls through the closed bedroom door. “I’m coming in.” Easing the door open, Meg’s eyes instantly fall upon the mound in the bed. Cas swathed in comforters, a tuft of dark hair peeking out from the top. 

“Hey Cas. How we doing?” Meg walks round to the far side of the bed, where Cas is facing. His blue eyes are staring ahead, glazed over and unreactive. He’s still breathing, but he doesn’t track Meg kneeling down beside the bed so her eyes are level with his. 

_Fuck_. “Did you and Sam have fun last night?” Meg’s voice is soft and she slowly reaches a hand out and gently touches Castiel’s cheek. The stubble there is rough and getting a little long, because Cas hadn’t shaved yesterday. 

“The groceries are coming later. Kevin will want to say hi.” 

Meg starts to stroke Castiel’s cheek, fingers running lightly over his skin. A long breath blows out of Castiel’s mouth and finally he blinks. His eyes start to focus on Meg’s and she feels a small sense of relief. 

“Meg?” There’s confusion in Castiel’s voice. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” 

Cas blinks again and then leans into her hand. His eyes are big and filled with hurt. “I… I didn’t think you would be coming back.” 

“Someone’s gotta keep your ass in line.” 

“But—” 

“I’m not about to let some stranger come in here.” 

Tension washes out of Castiel’s face with that reassurance and Meg tries not to imagine what thoughts Cas could have spent the whole night torturing himself with. 

“What’s the time?” 

Meg checks her watch. “Just before nine. You gonna get up for me and take a shower? I’ll make you coffee.” She takes her hand away from Cas’s face and the flare of fear that flashes in Castiel’s eyes is tortuous to see. 

“You won’t leave?” Cas asks anxiously. 

Heart breaking just a tiny bit, Meg nods. “No, you doof. I’ll be in the kitchen while you shower. Now, c’mon, you need to get out of bed.” Meg stands, her knees protesting at being on the floor for so long. 

Castiel begins to stretch and pull back the covers, he’s slept naked this time, but Meg doesn’t turn away in time to avoid seeing not so little Castiel looking incredibly perky this morning. Turning away and walking back to the door, Meg tries to avoid looking at Cas in a long floor mirror stood near the door. Her cheeks are warm. 

“I’m going to take my shower now.” 

Meg nods. “Great. I’ll start sorting out the coffee and some breakfast. Oatmeal good?” 

“Oatmeal is very good.” The floorboards move as Cas comes around the bed and heads for the en suite’s door. “May I have honey?” 

“Sure.” 

Movement in the mirror suggests Castiel has nodded and then the en suite door is closing behind Meg. She lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in. It had gone a lot easier than she’d expected. For a while she thought she’d have to spend most of the day coaxing Cas out of bed. But there was still the rest of the day to get through. _Plenty of time to fuck up again_ , she thinks with a grimace as she heads downstairs.


	14. Chapter 14

The day rolls on. There’s a degree of tension there that’s really distracting. Meg’s pretty darn good at compartmentalizing, but every now and again she’ll catch sight of Cas and think _boy, did he look fucking hot naked_ and flush a little. The push and pull of it all is very confusing, and not helped even a little by the way Cas takes every possible opportunity to brush up against her and get in her space. 

Cas is sitting beside her on the couch while they watch Rosemary’s Baby, shifting anxiously, thigh brushing against hers when she’s had enough. “Okay! Okay you freaking win. Come here, you stubborn mule.” Meg tucks Cas into her arms, having his head come to rest against her shoulder despite their height difference as he’s sort of sprawled all over the couch while she’s backed into the far left end. 

He goes with it, curling around her like a cat; his crown is pressed into her neck, eyes on the film. “This is somewhat awkward.” 

“Yeah, but it’s what you’re used to, right?” Meg absently trails a hand over Cas’s arm. 

“Do you not find the scene where Satan rapes Rosemary erotic?” 

_Wait, what?I…_ Meg is left feeling a little off kilter from that. “I… what? Well no, I mean Polanski’s a kiddie fiddler so that sort of takes all the fun out of it…” 

Cas turns his face up to look at Meg. “You find it impossible to separate an artist from his work then?” Cas looks worried. 

“Kind of. Maybe. I guess it shouldn’t matter, we’re still watching this, ain’t we?” But Meg’s not so sure they are with her charge’s eyes looking up into hers. 

Cas frowns and then sighs, like he’s about to deliver some crushing piece of news. “I dreamt of you. A you that I am considering putting in my comic.” 

“What?” This was the last thing Meg expected to hear today. 

Shrugging, Cas turns back to watch the film. “I would be surprised if you hadn’t realized. All the characters in Preternatural are gender flipped variants of people I know. Dean, Sam and myself are the main characters.” 

“Oh...so… like, _guy_ me? Was he hot?” 

“You were hot. It was a near miss, explaining to Dean that I woke up hard thinking about you as a male. But the reality is greatly preferable...” _Damn Cas to Hell_ , him and that gravelly voice that sends shudders all down Meg’s spine and makes her skin tingle. 

“Keep talking like that and your cuddling privileges are getting revoked, mister.” 

Cas’s intense gaze returns to Meg’s. “Put your hands in my hair.” 

Again, Meg finds herself saying dumbly, “What?” 

“Stroke me.” 

_Shit. That’s this pair of panties fucking destroyed._

“ _Please,_ Meg. I spend much time feeling so very alone.” 

_Well, if it’ll keep him from blue-screening on me again…_ Meg swallows and lets out a slow, inaudible breath, fighting to keep it even. “Okay. But this is as far as it goes, you understand?” 

“Mm.” 

She reaches up one hand and cups Cas’s neck where it meet his skull, tangling her fingers in the shorter hairs curling there. Cas sighs and a whole lot of tension goes out of his body. 

Meg finds herself relaxing, too. _This isn’t so bad, right? It’s not anything you wouldn’t do if you were keeping it platonic…_ Of course there is nothing platonic _at all_ about the fact that nibbling away at the corners of conscious thought is what it would be like to tug on that same hair, use it to control Castiel as he ate her out. 

That she now knows what his hair feels like through her fingers, and it’s an infinitesimally small distance to arrive at _running my hands through his sweaty hair while he’s balls deep in me, fucking me in that same bed he’s fucked Dean in for however many years._ Meg unconsciously tries to spread her legs, to relieve some of the pressure where the inseam of her pants is now digging into her swollen sex. _Uhhh… dammit._

Her brain has apparently stalled out, done braining for the day. Lips press lightly at her neck, and she makes a slightly strangled noise, hands clenching in Cas’s thick hair. “ _Cas…_ ” 

“I know.” 

“Do you? Do you understand what kind of trouble this could potentially cause for me?” 

“There aren’t any cameras. No one would be the wiser.”  
His voice is low, husky, lips trailing her jaw. “Our dirty little secret.” 

Meg struggles then, trying to dump Cas off her lap. Meg’s used to handling bodies, helping people in and out of beds and wheelchairs, but either Cas is more muscled than he looks or she just doesn’t have it in her to really fight the skinny little artist. He straddles her lap, holding her chin in one hand, wrists in the other over her head. His deep blue eyes suck her in, just like they always had. 

“Think about it. About all the pleasure I could give you for the next two months… and maybe more. I know you want it. You still have the same… _tells_.” 

Meg closes her eyes and just tries to breathe. When she opens them again, Cas burns his stare into her, closing the distance. Pressing his lips to hers. After a second where Meg is frozen frigid, she moans and parts her lips slightly. 

Getting more insistent then, Cas flicks his tongue at the gap, encouraging her to open up for more. Which damn her, she does. _Fuck where is this going, I can’t—this is too far—like far died and tapped his third cousin twice removed to fly across the country in his place._ Her first love’s tongue is sliding into her mouth though, quicksilver in and out, like he’s only got one thing on his mind and she’s pinned down and it’s _really fucking hot_. 

Cas lets go of her chin then, stroking down her throat, gives a gentle squeeze, and her blood turns to lightning, the arousal is so intense. A godforsaken _moan_ rips out of her, and Cas stops tongue-fucking her mouth long enough to smirk. 

“I’m going to bend you over, and plunder every last dripping wet crevice of yours until you scream,” Cas growls. His hand leaves her neck to slide in through the v-neck of her shirt and cup her breast, thumbnail immediately scratching at her nipple as he squeezes. Meg whines, struggling against the hold he has on her wrists, not to get away now, but because she really really needs to touch him. 

The doorbell chimes and whoever it is has the worst or best possible timing in the world. Meg tries to think who it might be, as Cas is caught by surprise and slackens his grip on her. Pushing Cas off her, Meg pants and tries to smooth clothes and restrain her hair. 

The bell rings again. 

“Alright, alright! I’m coming!” yells Meg, heading off for the front hallway, leaving Cas on the couch. 

Straining against a pair of freshly laundered jeans, Cas kneels on the couch, hands gripping the back, and he watches the slice of hallway he can see. His heart is beating so fast he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. There’s a pull in his stomach demanding he go to the door and chase off whoever it is, but as he hears it open and the voice outside, he starts trying to calm himself. 

“Hello Meg. Usual delivery, uh, is Cas in a talking mood?” asks Kevin from the front door. 

“Oh, he will be in a minute,” replies Meg and then slightly louder than needed, “he’s in the bathroom.” 

Cas frowns, wondering why Meg would say that he is in the bathroom when he is not. Shifting on the couch, jeans and boxers dragging over his hard-on, Cas understands what Meg is trying to do. She doesn’t want him embarrassing himself. 

Getting up from the couch, Cas ninjas his way upstairs and to the en suite. He locks himself inside. The simple fact of the matter is that he doesn’t want to come with his hand again. Not after getting so close to what he wants. 

_I can’t do this. I can’t face anyone like this. Meg was wrong. The only talking I want to do, is—_

Castiel doesn’t look at his reflection as he washes his hands. After a cursory wipe he leaves the bathroom for their bedroom. _Dean, why did you have to get in trouble? I’m— I’m out of control, beloved. Christ._

Taking a deep breath, Castiel shuts the door and tries not to feel too guilty about ignoring Kevin. He walks over to the nightstand on the right of the bed and takes out his favourite toy. He and Dean had had many pleasurable playtimes with it; edging Cas over and over until he begged to be fucked while his lover stared down at him, drinking in every gasp, whimper; every tremble and squirm. 

The silicone is cold in his hand, the slightly off-putting texture familiar. Cas bites his lips as he stares at its familiar pepto-bismal pink ridges and hooked head. He throws it on the bed and takes off his pants and underwear, pulse thrumming rapidly. When the cool air hits his cock, he hisses. It had been sweaty and stuck together inside his clothes. It’s a relief to have it freed. He gets the lube in the nightstand and throws it on the bed, too. 

Grabbing the pillows, he rearranges them so he can lean up against the headboard comfortably and settles in. His hands find the toy and then the lube; he clicks it open. He slicks the toy up and holds his junk up out of the way, legs splayed wide open. He pauses, resisting the urge to squeeze under his balls, to play with his sadly neglected erection. 

_I can’t. I can’t touch myself, all alone again, or I’ll break. I’ll shatter and I don’t know when I’ll come back together. God, Dean, I miss you so much. It hurts so fucking bad._

Clicking the dial over, the toy buzzes to life and Cas circles in around his perineum, imagining/remembering Dean teasing him with it. He talks as if Dean can hear him, like when they were skyping together. “Feels so good… I don’t know if I want you to keep going or just fuck me, sweetheart.” Cas does a few more circles, then slowly trails the toy back and forth between his perineum and rim. 

“I want you. Don’t make me beg,” he mutters. “Want you so bad, all the damn time.” Cas’s eyes fall shut and he takes a deep breath before pushing the vibrator inside of him. The slight stretch gives his eyes an excuse to water. 

“Put that gorgeous cock in my mouth. Want to taste you. Need to feel you. All of you, pushing in and going down my throat… wouldn’t you like that? Don’t you want to shut me up?” Cas groans, working the toy in and out of him slowly, trembling. 

“I’d make it so good, make you shake apart, make you take me like an _animal_ —” Cas clicks the vibrator to a higher setting and angles his wrist so it hits his prostate and whines. A couple of moments of panting later, he continues. 

“—Tease you until you forced it down me, choking me, until I went limp, completely under your power… and then it would be the easiest matter in the world for you to flip me over and shove your big dick right up my aaaa—” 

Cas falls silent then, air cut off by the orgasm flooding his senses, seeing red and black behind his eyelids, come spurting up to hit his stomach and forearm. His spine curves like a bow and he knocks his head a couple of times against the (thankfully cushioned) headboard. He is helpless as he rides the aftershocks, fingers unco-operative as he fumbles the vibrator off. 

Shaking, sweaty, and panting, he slowly comes down and realizes he hasn’t once thought of Meg at all. _I couldn’t. Unlike Dean she is right there and her past rejections were painful._ Guiltily, he looks down at the mess he’s made. _Would she still want me, if she found me like this? Should I let her find me like this? Would she like a taste?_

Thinking of exactly how gross cooling ejaculate it is, Cas winces. _No, likely not. My dear thorny beauty… what exactly am I doing to you? To myself? To… to Dean?_

Castiel puts his head in his hands, and the tears come then, as he shakes with silent sobs. He doesn’t have the energy nor the ability to take the toy out, as it will compound the feeling of emptiness howling through him. Instead, he sinks down, pulls the covers up over himself, and knows no more.


	15. Chapter 15

It’s embarrassing having to make up excuses for Castiel when Meg knows what’s really going on with him, but there was no way she was going to explain to Kevin why Cas was indisposed. _Yeah, sorry, Cas can’t come and talk Evangelion reboot theories with you, because I left him hard and aching just before you turned up with the groceries._

Meg calls softly, “Cas? Hey?” then raps on the bedroom door. Receiving no answer, she goes inside and finds him fast asleep, arms curved around a pillow like someone holding onto an emergency flotation device in the sea of blankets pooled around him. A moment later, the smell of sex hits her nose, causing it to wrinkle. 

_Oh. Guess I should’ve seen that coming. (heh) No wonder he ignored Kevin_. Unable to help herself, she crosses the room and smooths a sweaty piece of cow-licked hair up off his forehead. It’s then she sees it: _tear tracks_. His face is still a little blotchy, in fact. _Oh Clarence, what am I going to do with you?_

Setting her lips in a firm line, Meg determines she is going to do one thing her training is good for: defaulting back to a crappy stereotype. “ _Clarence_ ,” she coos, “Wake up sweetie, it’s time for your sponge bath.” She ghosts her lips over his temple, and he wakes up with a small start. 

“Meg?” 

_Sigh. This morning: Reloaded._

“Yes. Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Cas turns his head to look at her with one eye, flushing a little. “Oh?” 

Meg takes pity on him. “You took a nap mid-day with all the covers on. You’re a sweaty mess.” 

“Oh. Oh I… I suppose that is true.” 

“I’ll help, if you want.” 

“Oh, that would be—” Cas sighs. “Most welcome.” He flops onto his back. 

Meg pats his leg. “Come on, lazy bones. Day’s almost over.” 

Cas looks up at Meg then, searching her face, eyes earnest. “Will you stay? And not just, here, but— with me? In bed? Just to sleep?” 

_I know this is a terrible idea. But look at him._ Cas is a bleary, blotchy mess, had only managed eating once, if barely, behaviour and moods all over the place, and hadn’t touched his comic. They’d tried to relax by watching a movie, but look how that had turned out. Meg squeezes his knee, but looks away. “Alright, kiddo. But no funny stuff.” 

_Might as well tell a dog not to eat chocolate._

Castiel takes her hand and kisses it gently, before squeezing and letting go, causing Meg to blush. “I… I require a moment to get out of bed. _Alone_.” 

“Nuh-uh. Don’t want you falling back asleep on me. Come on, up.” Meg looks at Cas expectantly. 

His face is bright red. All the way up to the tips of his ears. _What? He sure as hell wasn’t shy earlier…._

Cas’s hands go under the blanket, and he holds Meg’s gaze pointedly as he spreads his legs. _What the Hell? He better not be—_

Licking his lips slowly, staring Meg down, she nearly misses Cas’s flinch as a soft _plop_ is heard. 

_Huh? Oh._ OH. _Aaaand great. Now I’ve got another lady boner._

Reaching back above the covers, Cas grabs a corner and balls it, revealing his thin mostly naked frame as he _undoubtedly pushes aside and hides a sex toy. Which had been in him, holy shit._

***

Meg gets Cas into the shower and clean without incident. Lots of gazing at tiles and politely refusing to wash Castiel’s back play a huge part in that. Technically it was good that Castiel was cleaned up. Just after lunch, Cas begins an hour long counselling session over Skype. They are definitely in troubled waters, but Meg doesn’t need Missouri Moseley tipping her over board by later raising questions about her with Dean or Gabriel. 

During the session set up in the office, Meg keeps her distance. Cleaning and tidying around the house and trying not to eavesdrop whenever she passes the closed office doors. There’s not too much to do, but as she puts some board games away in a closet, she spots a yoga mat she hasn’t noticed before. She couldn’t quite imagine Dean doing yoga, but Cas? The link between exercise and alleviating anxiety and depression is something that she’s well aware of in her line of work. 

Traitorous imagination working overtime, Meg tries and fails to stop herself from imagining Cas in the “cat pose” and letting her trail her hand over him. _Nope, stop it! If I get Cas doing yoga again it won’t be for selfish reasons._ But Meg doesn’t quite manage to convince herself. 

Shutting the closet door, Meg checks the time and sees that Castiel’s session will be finished soon. Deciding to go and brew a pot of tea, she makes her way to the kitchen and puts fresh water in the kettle and gets that on—letting the simple task occupy all her thoughts. Meg looks for all the things that she’ll need. They have regular loose leaf black tea that Cas would normally take with milk, but Kevin had brought over a new box from Cas’s favourite deli that he thought the comic artist would like. 

Meg retrieves the new, small box of black tea with dried peach and ginger. The instructions are simple enough: one spoonful for the pot and one per person. Placing a blue tea pot on the counter, Meg waits for the kettle to finish boiling. The kettle switch clicks over and Meg picks up the kettle and pours some of the hot water into the teapot and places the lid on the pot. Slowly, she swirls the hot water inside the teapot, warming the blue ceramic then pours the water down the sink. Picking up a teaspoon, Meg puts three spoonfuls of the sweet smelling mixture into the blue teapot and then pours the hot water onto it and replaces the lid. Leaving the tea to steep, she retrieves a tea strainer from a drawer and a pair of cups with saucers. 

Arranging the teapot, cups and saucers, strainer and a small pot of honey on a tray, Meg carries the tea into the living room and places it on the coffee table. The office doors are opened and Cas emerges, dressed in clean jeans and an old band t-shirt for The Rolling Stones that looks suspiciously like it belongs to Dean. Meg’s eyes trail down from his neutral face to his bare feet and she tries to remember if Cas is ticklish. 

Cas audibly sniffs the air. “What tea is that?” 

Meg’s eyes snap back to Cas’s face. “Black with dried peach and ginger. It was Kevin’s idea; he was excited for you to try it.” 

At the mention of Kevin’s name, Cas blanches and Meg can clearly see the guilt there on his face. 

“I should have… shouldn’t have—” 

“Hey… Hey now. Hold your horses, Cas. Kevin was totally chill about it. No harm done. Come sit.” 

There’s a small nod from Cas and he walks over to the couch and sinks down onto it. Meg doesn’t quite give herself over to the cushions, but does get comfortable. She starts thinking about what’s happening tomorrow. Sam is coming by with Bones and staying through the evening. When she casts a reflexive look outside, she sees the yoga mat sitting in the closet and— 

“Cas?” Meg looks over at him and puts on a warm smile. 

“Yes?” Cas frowns. 

Meg picks up the teapot and gives the tea a quick swish before putting it back down to let it steep. “Whaddya say tomorrow we run around in the backyard with Bones?” 

Castiel’s nose flares and the muscles in his jaw visibly tense. “Meg, I…” 

“You don’t have to go straight outside, but maybe we could have the back door open and you sit there at first. And… and I’ll toss a ball around with rover. If you want to play ball, do. Deal?” 

Cas doesn’t reply. 

“Sam and I will be there the whole time. Nobody’s gonna get past us and the mutt. Bones will go nuts, and you’ll be able to play fetch with him and roll around without whacking your shins on the furniture.” Which had happened during the last visit. 

Closing his eyes, Cas looks like he’s about ready to bolt or faint. “If I ultimately decline...” he opens his eyes, “will it be upsetting to you?” 

“No, Clarence. Absolutely not.” _You’ve been dealt such a shitty hand, how could I be upset over this?_

Cas nods. “I’ll… do my best.” 

Meg gives Cas a wink and starts to pour the tea. “That’s all I’m asking, sugar.” 

The tea’s actually pretty good when it cools enough to be sipped, but as Meg flicks through a magazine on her lap, she can’t help catching the hungry looks that Castiel keeps throwing her way. Meg tries desperately not to think about how their sleepover is going to go.


	16. Chapter 16

The house is quiet. Cas is leaning against the couch, sat on the floor, a copy of Stephen King’s The Dead Zone open on his lap. He’s been working his way through it in fits and starts for weeks, but right now is eyes are just glazed over, unable to take in the words. Meg set him up with the book before she left to get some things for their “sleepover” as they were both now calling it, plus dinner. 

“What am I doing?” Cas asks out loud to the room. The guilt of earlier starts to simmer inside him again and he squeezes his eyes shut. _If only I could talk to and see Dean…_ Cheating isn’t a word that’s entered Castiel’s thoughts once, it doesn’t now, even though he’d once been worried Dean would cheat on him in Japan. Keeping things PG almost seems plausible without Meg at hand, but it’s clear to Cas that as soon as she’s back, he won’t be able to deny his id. 

Castiel reads the same paragraph for the third time. Johnny Smith’s by a band stand and things are starting to get more than a touch disturbing for the protagonist and those around him as Johnny sees what the serial killer saw and almost spills the beans. 

A confession had almost rumbled out of Cas in front of Missouri earlier when she’d asked if he was still getting along with Meg. He’d stopped. Maybe Missouri caught something of his internal conflict while observing him with her deep brown eyes, but she’d let nothing on. Their session had continued as normal. 

Shortly thereafter, he’d texted Dean: _I came untouched with your favourite toy in my ass, fantasizing about you taking me by force._

Dean had texted back: _Holy fuk u so hot baby starting to hate Japan, catching z‘s ttyl_

It hadn’t been enough. It had made him feel only slightly better. He longs to hear his lover’s gasps and moans, the unique tone he says Castiel’s name in when one of them is buried inside the other. Cas aches for the contact, for the smell, taste, and touch of Dean. But Dean isn’t here. 

Meg is here. 

Cas can’t let Meg go, because she’s tethering him there, keeping him at least a touch sane, despite appearances to the contrary.  
  


  
***

  


Opening the front door, Meg has an overnight bag over one shoulder and a pizza balanced in one hand. Dusk is falling. Castiel had not answered the bell. 

“Cas, I’m back.” Meg pushes the front door closed with her butt, carefully turns the hall light on and walks into the living room. She’d left Cas at the foot of the couch. He’s still sat there, in the growing dark. 

Flipping on the overhead light, Meg tries to fight it as her muscles go tense and a headache starts to form. She walks over to Cas and puts the pizza box down on the coffee table and drops her bag to the floor. There’s no reaction from him, eyes remaining glazed over. 

“Hey,” Meg kneels in front of Cas and his eyes come into view, “I brought pizza. Thin crust, white sauce, pepperoni, mushrooms, and mozzarella.” 

_C’mon, Clarence_ , Meg strokes Cas’s face and he blinks, eyes focusing on hers. 

“Meg,” Cas says softly. 

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out. Pizza time?” She rubs her thumb over Castiel’s cheek and his eyes close in pleasure. _If he was a cat, he’d be purring right now._ It’s the quickest he’s come back to her today. 

“Yes.” 

Meg pulls her hand away and Cas opens his eyes. “You gonna help me out and grab some drinks?” 

Cas nods and they both get to their feet. Meg heads for the kitchen as Cas puts his book away. Meg doesn’t hear him come in, but as she stretches for some napkins on a high shelf in a cupboard, Cas stretches over her from behind and gets them down for her. His body brushes against hers, _Cas, can’t we eat first? No wait, don’t…_ Meg’s imagination gives her a preview of what Cas between her legs would be like. 

Meg lets out a long breath. “Cas…” 

“You seemed to require assistance.” Cas hands the napkins to Meg as she turns to face him, but he remains impossibly close. Warm breath mingling with hers. 

“Yeah, and now I want to help that pizza right into my mouth while it’s hot.” Meg doesn’t move. 

“Will beer do?” Cas licks his lips. _And you are so doing that on purpose, Novak. Damnit!_

“Uh-huh,” is all Meg can manage to reply. Castiel smirks and heads to the fridge. Lips out of view, Meg regains her senses and takes the napkins out to the living room. 

Soon they’re eating pizza and a re-run of _Whose Line Is It Anyway?_ is babbling on in the background. Meg can’t pay attention to the TV and conversation is hard when you’re stuffing your face with pizza or watching the sinful way that Castiel eats it. Slice raised above his mouth, long fingers holding onto the crust while propping it up from underneath. Tongue flicking out to guide each bite into his mouth. And then at the end of each slice, wetly sucking the sauce off of each finger loudly, _pop-pop-pop-pop-pop,_ and then licking away the sauce from his lips. __

_Oh God why did I ask for double alfredo sauce. It’s like I wanted to do this to myself.  
Just sleep. He promised it was just to sleep._

In the back of Meg’s mind is the promise she made for tonight. Climbing into Dean’s spot beside his partner. Beside her, it’s evident Cas is thinking about her replacing Dean in more ways than as a warm body. 

Meg sips her beer and glances over at Cas. He takes a long pull from his own bottle, _and this was a mistake_. She puts her beer down, nearly fumbling it as her mind coughs up those gorgeous lips being wrapped around Dean’s hard cock instead. _Is it hot in here all of a sudden?_ Meg’s face is burning up. 

“Meg?” The bottle’s on the coffee table and Cas is tilting his head as he looks at her. “Is something troubling you?” 

_So much._ “Just thinking.” _My overactive imagination knows no shame._

“Something pleasurable, I hope.” The smirk is back and Cas puts his bottle down. 

Meg glowers. “Yeah, yeah. How about you put the leftovers in the fridge and pick a movie.” 

The movie ends up being _Independence Day_. Two more bottles of beer and Meg’s finishing the character’s lines with Cas; they both keep checking out Jeff Goldblum (“there’s just something about those glasses with that hair”) and they debate whether it would have been more efficient for the aliens to just come on in with a giant planet cracking ship instead. 

“Hello, boys. I’m back!” Shouts Randy Quaid’s character Russell and Castiel as Russell flies his plane into the hyper blue opening of an alien spaceship. Castiel’s impersonation is pretty convincing and Meg just starts laughing and Cas joins in. 

Laughter suits Cas. It fits him better than melancholy: jaw open, head back and joyous sounds rumbling from his soul. Chest heaving and cheeks going red—this is the closest Meg has gotten to the Castiel she use to know before pain entered his life. 

Once the credits start to roll, Meg stands and stretches. It’s time for bed and she has butterflies. 

***

Wearing loose sweats and the t-shirt he put on earlier, Cas remains curled on his side, facing away from Meg. He has his comforters and Meg has hers, covering a pair of her own sweats and an old _Harry Potter_ t-shirt. 

It’s been six weeks since Dean was here last, and the sheets have been changed enough that it doesn’t smell too much like him anymore. Meg settles into the depression shaped from constant wear of that gorgeous (smug, insufferable, mouthy) bastard having slept there for years. She stares at the ceiling awhile, but ultimately the beer does its job and she nods off. 

Sleep had claimed Cas immediately, as he was exhausted after the emotionally charged day. However, now that he’s awoken and returned from taking a leak, sleep seems impossibly far. 

The sounds emanating from the mound behind him are sweet and beautiful: even breathing, the occasional rustle and sleepy unintelligible mumble balm to Cas’s lonely soul. _Not Dean, but…_ Cas focuses on the rhythm of her breaths, matching them, and his tension rolls away. Sleep covers him as surely as the comforter cocooning him. 

Beastly eyes glare at Cassiel, the alpha werewolf daring her to reach for Daley and see what happens. Angel blade sliding into her palm, Cassiel takes a small step forward in the cramped living room and then an unknown spell words fill the air. A huge crack opens and down goes Daley and the beast into unfathomable depths before the floor is sealed once more. 

Meg stands in the living room, or Martin does, radiating confidence. Cassiel takes one tentative step forward, then breaks into a jog. When she reaches Martin, she throws her arms around his neck; pressing up into him, kissing and rubbing. At some point “thank you” gets said. 

A needy moan wakes Cas up and he finds himself on his other side, arms wrapped around Meg, mouth poised by hers. In the night-time gloom Cas can pick up the rapid twitching of Meg’s eyelids. _No, no, not like this._

Meg nuzzles at his neck and then Cas disentangles himself, heart drumming rapidly as he lies there, limbs stiff as a corpse, hands clenched into fists. _I should go sleep on the couch._

A tiny whimper from Meg halts that train of thought in its tracks. Her face is creased in her sleep and her breathing is uneven, breathy gasps. She’s speaking, but Cas can’t quite make out what she’s saying. 

Turning back towards Meg, Cas tries to listen to her words. 

“N-no. Can’t take… b-both,” moans Meg in her sleep. She shudders and then Cas realizes that’s not panicked breathing he’s hearing. _She’s dreaming about sex._

“Meg, wake up.” Cas murmurs, tapping Meg’s shoulder. 

“Cas… Dean…” Meg groans in a voice that sends blood straight to Castiel’s dick. There’s no doubt in his mind that Meg is dreaming of him and Dean trying to fuck her. Maybe trying to push themselves inside of her together. Using her hole to slide against each-other. Fucking her open, stretching her too wide until she screams around them both. 

His blood boils with arousal and jealousy both. 

Sleep takes its sweet time to return.


	17. Chapter 17

A hand is cradled against Meg’s ass; a thigh between her legs; there’s an arm under her pillowed head, busy stroking her neck and soft lips kissing hers. Eyes flickering open, she realizes she’s grinding against the thigh; her arms are wrapped around Castiel and holding him to her, and Castiel is half asleep. Early morning light filters into the bedroom through gaps in the blinds. The alarm Meg set on her cell hasn’t gone off yet. 

She’s too sleepy to panic. 

Castiel squeezes Meg’s ass, causing Meg to close her eyes and rub more determinedly against Cas. The movement highlights her own wetness and brings her closer to Castiel’s prominent erection. 

The kiss stops and Cas shifts to Meg’s neck, nuzzling it as he speaks in a low, agreeable voice, “Let me bury my face between your thighs. Let me taste you, swirl my tongue deep in and around you until you come, squeezing your wet pussy around my fingers like they’re my cock. Let me reward you, my beautiful. You’ve been so good.” 

Meg’s brain attempts to kick in even though her privates are throbbing. “Cas, we need to stop.” 

Cas shifts and frees his arms and leg. Relief washes over Meg, thinking that Cas is listening to her and then his long fingers pull in under her waistband and yank down her sweats, exposing her sex under the covers. 

“We,” Cas brings a hand back to cup Meg’s ass, “don’t need to stop anything.” Cas squeezes Meg’s ass and she pushes into the contact. “We need to get you panting and moaning. Filling the air with your needy cries.” Castiel starts to slide down under the covers. 

_Just how many times has he sweet-talked Dean into morning sex like this?_ Weakly whacking Cas’s comforter covered head, Meg makes a poor attempt at trying to stop Cas. “No, we need to get breakfast.” _I’m lying here in Dean’s spot with basically his husband yanking my damn pants around my ankles, for crying out loud. This is so damn wrong. I’m not willing to be a stand-in, not even for you, Clarence._

“The rest of your day is only one or two orgasms away!” Cas sings in a mocking sing-song voice from under the covers, bringing into relief the hint of mania that’s always simmering under the surface with him. 

Hands grip Meg’s hips and pull her on to her back before completely dragging her sweats off. Meg half-heartedly squirms against Cas, but his hands rest firmly against her pelvis. Cas’s hot breaths pant by her pubes and Meg can sense that maybe Castiel is hesitating. 

_Ok, any second now, you’re gonna move, mouth. You’re gonna take in air and tell this to stop because you’re no one’s second-best and you don’t even have the right equipment._ Then Castiel’s hands shift, pulling her legs open and bending them. Expertly getting her into position _and I bet he thinks it’s like eating out an ass, only harder, and I am **so going to Hell for this!**_

Warm fingers tease her folds open, killing any further protest from Meg. Looking down where her body lies on Dean’s side of the bed, all Meg can see is the comforter covered mound that is Cas between her legs _and damnit if this is happening I wanna see it_. Meg pulls the covers off of Cas, revealing his dark hair sticking up in all directions as his lowered head hovers in front of her. She can feel his stare burning into her, making her thighs quiver as she fights against herself not to spread them further. The smooth tips of his fingers catch on her tiny nub of nerves, making her quake on her back. 

Cas looks up, eyes dark and demanding. “This is your clitoris.” 

“Y—yes.” 

His fingers are replaced by a shallow swipe of tongue, making Meg gasp. Cas sinks down into position and spreads her apart with his tongue, before dipping down to her hole to taste her. That ridiculously long tongue carries her slick up to wet her clitoris further. It startles a shaky gasp out of her. Mentally, Meg tries to map what he’s doing. “Like toying with the slit and swirling your tongue around the head of a hard dick, huh Cas?” 

Cas growls in response, then lifts his head up so she can see his lips swollen and slick with her fluids. “Watch your tone, Megan.” 

Meg props herself up on her elbow and draws in a reedy breath. “Why? What are you going to do about it?” 

Narrowing his eyes and giving a slow, deliberate lick of his lips, Castiel scowls. “Try harder to silence you, my dear.” Glacial anger darkens the blue of his eyes ridiculously, his face half in shadow. Meg’s heart beats erratically in her chest, and Cas bends again to his task, swirling and lapping, licking and sucking, making her wetter and her hole more desperate. Furiously, like he’s berating her. 

His mouth is covering her clit, sucking the entire thing while his tongue curls up and over her nub, again and again. Meg shakes, giving in and spreading herself. Her hips move of their own accord. “C—Cas I… I need… Oh Jesus. Fi—fingers. Oh God, I need you in me.” 

Cas’s mouth pulls off of her, breath ghosting over her most sensitive part. “Say that again.” 

Reaching a hand to Castiel’s hair, Meg strokes it and says, her voice rusty, “Fi—fingers too, Cas.” Her thighs tremble, and dimly she notes she’s covered in sweat. 

Coming up for air, Castiel’s slick covered jaw comes into view. “You want my fingers to do _what_ , exactly?” 

Biting on her lip, Meg tries not to whimper from the loss of contact. “F—fuck me. Please, Cas, fuck me with your fingers while you eat me. Wi—with two. Push them in and then move them like th—this.” Meg mimics a come hither motion. _I can’t believe he’s done this to me. That things have gotten so far out of hand._

_I caved like a virgin on prom night. I’m supposed to be a professional. Not a… “professional”. Yet here I am, begging him to make me come like a cheap hooker instead of his care giver. I can’t believe this is his first time. I can’t… I can’t do a damn thing to stop him._ She is helpless in the face of his obdurate desires. 

The thoughts racing through her mind are nearly enough to cool her blood, if it weren’t for the way Cas is laser-focused on her. His stare tracks her every little movement, and he frowns, nodding. Through the fog of her arousal, Meg realizes that Cas really, really gets off on doing this right. And then Cas is heading back down, mouth latching onto her clit like it’s gonna give up the Elixir of Life while two long fingers slide inside of her with ease. 

The fingers stay still for the briefest moment and then Cas starts to move them as instructed. _Fuck, he’s a fast learner!_ Meg reaches a hand down between her legs and grips Castiel’s hair, thumb lazily stroking as she shudders around his head. His fingers are getting all the right places, making heat blossom within and making her hold back from pushing down against him. 

“Fuck, Cas!” Meg cries and Cas replies with a throaty growl that only further drives the climb of pleasure inside Meg. 

Tongue swirling hot and fast, _and how is his jaw not aching already_ , Castiel’s fingers begin to speed up, pumping in and out of Meg now, nearly rendering her overstimulated. _How the hell is he keeping this up? My last few boyfriends were only good for like two minutes tops before they started whining about aching wrists._ Meg squirms, bucking her hips over and over, giving back as good as she gets. _Holy cow, It’s been like five minutes already._

Suddenly those two fingers are no longer going in a come hither motion, but are being dragged achingly well around the inside of her hole. The motion teasing out what Cas wants to so desperately to give to Meg: an orgasm. The phantom image of Cas fingering his own hole like this last night before putting a toy inside of himself has her swearing. 

“ _Fuck!_ ” Meg fists Castiel’s hair and cries, feeling herself close. “This what you did to yourself last night? This what you do to _Dean?_ ” Cas’s fingers falter in her for a moment and she sort of regrets it but she’s completely lost any vestige of control. “Don’t stop, fucking Christ, don’t you dare stop!” 

Cas’s tongue starts rapidly flicking her bean and the fingers swiftly go back to the come hither motion, but it’s faster and harder. Pressure building, Meg’s thighs squeeze around Castiel’s head, hips rising a few inches from the bed as she screams and comes. And then Cas gives his fingers one quick jerk inside her and _fuck, two?!_ Meg manages to ask as her body, folds and core sensitive as heck, shudder again and a second weaker orgasm rips through her. 

Muscles relaxing, Meg’s thighs drop away and stop crushing Castiel’s head. He pulls away from Meg and kneels, his own hard on tenting in front of him through his sweats. The sight of Meg looking glassy-eyed, dazed and speechless, utterly dishevelled with a rather marvelous head of sex hair fills Cas with pride, knowing he caused that. She had tasted _so good_ , more like iron and less like salt compared to Dean. So light and sweet on his tongue he knows he’ll probably never stop craving it again. 

Guiltily, he pushes the thought away. _I do not know how I will shove that genie back in its bottle_. Crawling back up the bed, Cas flops down on his back and sighs. He reaches a hand down to his length and then has it swatted away as Meg rolls onto her side and shoves her hand inside his sweats. 

“So you enjoyed that then?” Cas asks casually, eyes rolling into the back of his head as Meg smears his pre-come over his tip and grips him tightly. This at least, is distantly familiar. The slide of her fingers on him, though smaller and more calloused now. _Calloused like Dean’s hands, in fact._

“Yes, damn you. First time my ass.” Meg strokes down Castiel’s shaft and then up. Her hand is tinier than Dean’s, and her grip is not as tight. She doesn’t know just how to touch him. She’s figuring it out, watching his face closely. _Dean should be here._

As Meg observes him, seeing him in a way no one other than Dean has in so long, it hurts. He’s already been so vulnerable and open to her, once she had started talking it had been all he could do to slide into the veneer of icy control. But he’s come this far, and he refuses to let his demons have him for now. _I do not know what Dean’s return will bring, for now we have this moment._

Cas pulls Meg half on top of him and tries desperately to lose himself in kissing her. All he can smell is Meg’s sex, her wetness buried deep into his skin. He shares Meg’s taste with her and Meg’s hand strokes faster. Their tongues chase each other and Cas can feel his release near. He’d almost just come from the sensation of eating Meg out and hearing her little sweet noises and the way her hand had ended up tugging on his hair. 

And then he’s there, hips jerking, crying into Meg’s mouth as he comes and rides a high that he hasn’t had for weeks. 

The alarm of Meg’s cell begins to sound and the day arrives. Two text messages pinging onto Castiel’s cell a second later.


	18. Chapter 18

“Cas, where are all the clean towels!” 

“Dryer!” 

_Of course they are. Of course I’ve been too fucking distracted to put the laundry away!_ Meg storms downstairs to the utility room, yanks two towels out of the dryer and jogs up back to the main bathroom. She can hear the steady stream of the en suite shower. 

Meg is fully awake now and trying not to think about how to hide her guilty face when Sam arrives half an hour earlier than agreed, because, _oh guess who’s paying a flying visit with Sam?_ The alarm would have given them plenty of time, but now Meg is in full panic mode, because Sam and Bones aren’t the only ones stopping by. 

Gabriel is dropping by too. 

Having broken every professional boundary she was meant to maintain, Meg was worried that Gabriel would realize something was up. Castiel’s older brother was very good at seeing through people and she already knew of his vindictive nature from conversations with Cas when they were in school. 

Everything needs to be ship-shape. Not a single hair out of place on Castiel’s head. A task harder than it sounds, because he’d already demanded Meg curling her hands through his hair twice since they got out of bed. Debauched kisses can do that. 

Getting the shower going, Meg strips off and then climbs into the already steaming water. Grateful for the water pressure. Starting to wash herself off, Meg reaches for the few bottles of her own toiletries and grabs some shower gel. She needed to not smell of Cas, so there is no point in borrowing anything in the house. 

Meg takes less time than she would like to shower, but she’s clean when she steps out. She heads back to Castiel’s room and grabs the hair dryer he put out for her and her overnight bag. It’s the spare room she gets dried and dressed in, not wanting to provoke Cas again. 

Hair only just dry enough, Meg makes her way downstairs to put some coffee on, straightening her scrubs as she goes. Entering the kitchen, she sees Cas has already put the coffee on and is sat at the breakfast bar. He’s all clean and dressed--same jeans as last night, fresh _Ghost in the Shell_ t-shirt on— _cool as a cucumber._

Not at all like he’s just cheated on his boyfriend with his former girlfriend in the bed they’ve been sharing since forever. The calm radiating from Cas is making Meg wonder if he’s just disassociating himself from the whole thing or whether his mind is a whirl of guilty thoughts and he’s going to crack any second. And then the jig will be up, because Sam and Gabriel will be here and Meg will be and Cas— _and I won’t have anywhere to hide. Hell, I could end up discredited and never working as a nurse or companion again._

Grabbing what she needs to make some oatmeal, Meg is finding it a little difficult to believe that this is Cas’s brain on sex. She’s about to say as much and then the doorbell rings. 

  
*** 

The front door looms ahead of Cas. On the other side he can hear the hushed whispers of Sam and Gabe. Bones is whining. Taking the chain off, Cas starts to open the door and puts on a smile, the pull of muscles feeling not quite right on his face. He’s desperately trying to shove his wake up call into the back of his mind. Trying not to think about the silky slide of Meg over his mouth and nose. 

Cas is finding it increasingly difficult to keep those fresh memories down and the self-reflection that comes with it. The part which demands answers as to why he betrayed Dean. He tries to shut that all down. 

“G-Gabe, S-Sam.” Cas can feel his smile faltering. 

“Hey, kiddo!” Gabe beams at him, a box of doughnuts held in one hand that Bones keeps nudging his nose towards. 

“Hope you didn’t mind us stopping by so early?” Sam tries to pull Bones away from the box. 

“No, no, it’s cool.” But Castiel’s voice hints otherwise. He’s trying to remember when he last saw Gabe, rather than just talking to him on the end of a phone. 

There’s footsteps behind Cas and Meg stops beside him. “Cas, don’t just leave them there let ‘em in.” 

“Right.” Cas backs off and everyone piles into the house. He watches Gabe’s back retreat towards the kitchen and Cas has to lean against a wall. Meg closes the front door and looks at him, concern on her face. 

“You okay?” 

Cas nods. “Yeah, fine. Let’s go help them eat those doughnuts.” And it’s a lie, but Cas doesn’t elaborate further, just heads on after Sam and Gabe. 

Bones barks excitedly as Cas enters the kitchen. 

“Can I let Bones out back?” Sam asks, a doughnut already pinched between his fingers. 

Cas manages a nod, eyes unable to move away from the way Sam and Gabe are both framing the sliding door. Sam unhooks the lock and slides the door open. Bones bolts out and is running around like a happy maniac within seconds. 

“Got a peanut butter, creme and jelly here with your name on it.” Gabe smirks, hand pointing towards the open box on the breakfast counter. 

Approaching the box, Cas grabs the doughnut and a napkin. A cup of coffee appears at his elbow and Meg stands beside him, maintaining a companionable distance. 

Gabe gives Bones a fond look and then walks over to Cas. “You doing alright?” 

Meg heads out into the garden with her coffee mug and doughnut. Cas can still see her, but the distance sends his heart rate up, which is stupid, because his big brother is right beside him. 

“Cas?” 

“I-I’m trying.” Cas takes a bite of the jelly and it feels dry and sticky in his mouth, getting stuck to his palate. 

“Yo, it’s okay if you’re finding Deano’s trip kinda tough. You two have been stuck on each other—no wait, scrap that, I did not say that… You two haven’t been away from each other for quite a long while. But Sam tells me you’ve been doing pretty well.” Gabe puts a reassuring hand up on Cas’s shoulder. 

Cas manages a nod and swallows his mouthful of doughnut. His mouth is dry and he sips his slightly too hot coffee. Occupying his mouth so he doesn’t have to talk. 

“I’m sorry I—” Gabe begins, but stops. Cas puts his coffee down, eyes focused on Bones outside. “I’m going to try and see you more often. Not wait until your boyfriend’s noped out of dodge to check on you.” 

_And it’s just to check on me?_ Cas feels the anger rising inside him. _Not to just be my brother? Hang? Talk? Just to come here and baby me? I can do this. I can show him I’m not broken._

Placing his coffee on the counter, Cas calls to Meg, “I want to try that thing you suggested.” 

Meg looks back to him through the back door with confusion and then realizes what Cas means. “If you’re sure, Cas.” 

Gabe doesn’t know what’s going on and Cas isn’t going to say, just do. He steps towards the open back door, feet slowly taking him forwards. Sam’s stood just outside the back door, drinking coffee, while Meg strokes Bone’s stomach. There’s an old tennis ball just inside the doorway and Cas picks it up. 

“Cas?” Gabe asks, not quite understanding where things are going. 

Outside glares at Cas as he stands in the doorway, feet poised to take him there. Into the space with Sun and grass. Blue sky filled with fluffy white clouds. It’s been more than ten months and Cas is determined to show Gabe. Left foot falls to the patio slabs just outside the door, followed by his right. He keeps wondering when he last saw Gabe, but the answer doesn’t come as Bones bounds up to him. 

Cas shows Bones the ball and the dog barks with excitement. Then Cas throws it down the small backyard so it hits their brown paneled fence. Bones chases after it and Cas turns around a triumphant grin on his face. Meg is grinning back and then he sees Sam and Gabe standing either side of the the backdoor. 

Something clicks into place inside Cas’s head. And he feels the ground rushing to meet him, deaf to the shouts that follow his progress down. He smells gunpowder, oil, and the greasy sickening stench of a man who hasn’t washed in days. Darkness pricks at Castiel’s vision and then he’s slipping into the void of unconsciousness.


	19. Chapter 19

The thing he remembers the most is the muzzle and the sight jabbing into his temple. More than the disorientation and the unreality in waves cresting over him. Just the harsh dig of metal pressing through his hair and into his skin while his breath came in panicked pants.

He was being choked by the collar of his shirt, standing nearly on tiptoe as he was dragged around by the much taller man. _The robber._

There’s distant shouting and his head was pounding, throbbing right where the cold unfeeling device of his death had rested. Susceptible to the whim of something as flawed as a human being’s will.

The glare of the sun had been harsh, making him squint as he had trekked to the corner store. It had seemed like the best idea in the world, to go get a slushie.

Nearly eleven months ago, the last time he had been outside.

The grating, clunky whirring of the store’s overworked air conditioning. The tired smile the mother of three who worked the midday shift managed for him. Castiel had been digging change out of his wallet, and maybe it was a cliche, but it really did _all happen so fast._

Before he knew what was happening, he’d been pushed up against someone who _smelled_ , really bad, like it’d been weeks since they’d been clean. Like vomit and the inside of a gym bag sealed shut for weeks, gasoline, other unnameable things. Instinctively, he’d flinched and tried to get away, but the cocking of a hammer had stopped him.

He’d frozen in place, barely daring to breathe, as the robber made his demands. What they were, Castiel was only able to discern later; running the tape back through his mind was like trying to piece together where you were from scenery blurring by as you whipped down the highway at 90.

His heart had been racing. He’d been frozen, save for his shaking, and in a cold sweat. In that moment, as the store’s lone employee had fumbled slowly through putting the cash in a plastic bag, staring at him with eyes wide as the moon, the robber had barked at her, and fired the gun into the ceiling. A small shower of plaster and broken glass had rained down.

Deafened and with gunsmoke filling his nose, Castiel had accepted that he was going to die. With the click of another round being chambered, the hot muzzle had been jammed back into place, and then the most fucked up thing of all had happened:

_He had gotten an erection._

Castiel had seen the black void of eternity swimming before his eyes, and everything within him had _just let go_. He had been powerless and one wrong move would’ve meant a bullet chambered in his brain. He had nearly fainted, nearly pissed himself, nearly puked. Instead, none of those things had happened. He was shoved to the floor, hitting his jaw

hard, and left with the sound of hurried footsteps retreating in the distance and a throbbing dick.

The clerk had come over to him then, phone in hand, babbling unintelligibly in a foreign language. A couple of bleary moments passed, where Castiel faded in and out of consciousness, erection slowly wilting.

The 911 operator had apparently calmed her, for she began to speak in English again. “Sir? Sir? _Sir stay awake! Help is coming!_ ”

When time starts moving normally again, Cas sees blurred versions of Gabriel and Sam. Together, they had crowded the back of the ambulance and fussed over him like two mother hens. Dean had been in a secured area at work and not been immediately reachable.

That had been the last time he’d seen Gabriel. Gabriel and Sam, together. Everything had come flooding back, as well as the shame. Shame, which has erupted to the forefront of his consciousness. He has so very many reasons to feel worthless, they may outnumber constellations in the western hemisphere.

As Castiel stares up at the ceiling, he wonders: _What is it I’m doing to Meg? What is it I’ve done?_

A soft hand is gripping his own and a familiar voice made foreign by lack of sarcasm is calling him softly. “Clarence? Come back to me… please…”

“ _Why?_ ” Castiel croaks.

“Oh thank God. Listen champ, you gave us all a scare. Gabriel realized what happened so he went to stay at Sam’s for now.”

Cas turns his head to stare at the wall. “Why do you care if I wake up again? Why does _anyone_?”

Meg scoffs. “Oh hush. Please, spare me the pity party.” She pats at his hand. “C’mon, let’s go see Samwise. He’s wearing a hole in the floor down there.”

“I’m just a burden.”

Meg takes his jaw in hand and he turns into it, eyes sliding halfway shut. Even now he wishes to take comfort in her. He is _sickening_. Jaw clenched, he manages to get out. “How can you even look at me?”

“You’re my client, dumbass. Moreover, you’re my friend…. and…” Meg bites her lip. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a certain….fondness… for you from all those years back.”

“I should not have lain a hand on you. I took advantage of your sleepy state— and I pushed, all I’ve done is push you— like some kind of—”

The slight slap that stings his cheek echoes loudly in the room. “I deserved that,” Cas mumbles.

“Now you listen to me, and you listen _good_. I’m not going to lie and say it was _awesome_ that things happened that way, but Clarence, all the reasons I have for staying away from you are really just someone else’s moral judgements. If I was a better person, I’d be able to shut you down. But I’m not and I couldn’t.” Cas looks up at her, sees the flatness of guilt echoing his in her eyes.

“I don’t _want_ to be your second choice. I’m nobody’s substitute. I want you to want me for _me_ , but you belong to Dean and I’m just… killing time, here. We haven’t talked in years and I’m only seeing you now because it’s work.” Cas flinches at this, and Meg sighs.

“Relax. If I didn’t want to be here I wouldn’t be. I’m just saying, that’s how things are. I’m not exactly okay with it, but for now you’re stuck with me. Capiche?”

“Capiche.”

“Now, should I send Sam up here, or do you think you can shake a leg?” Meg smiles, and it’s weak, not quite curling her lips, but it’s something. Cas tugs her by the hand.

“Kiss me.”

Meg looks beyond confused.

“I—... I can’t. I can’t talk about what happened. I just want to feel something _normal_. Please.”

Footsteps pound up the stairs and Meg shakes her head, sighs. “Clarence—”

Cas pulls her in then, just a quick press of lips and then he turns to the wall while Meg fidgets with her hair. Not even a full breath later, Sam appears in the doorway.

“Hey, he awake?”

“Yeah. I’ll leave you two to it.” _Thank God we made sure to air out the room this morning_. Meg slides away from the chair she’d set by the bed and leaves.

“So…” Sam takes a deep breath. “What exactly happened there, Cas? Also… please for my own peace of mind, can you turn around?”

_It’s just Sam, not… It’s fine_. Cas falls onto his back, shaking the bed frame and puts his hands under his head, eyes focusing on the ceiling. “You want to know what happened?” Cas says flatly.

“Yeeeah…” Sam says slowly, eyes gone liquid. He sighs, folding his hands together. “Some kind of ballpark. I’m worried…. were you…” _triggered—_ “set off by something?”

Cas flinches at this. Sam was pretty much half of why it happened. How do you tell a guy you’re good friends with that, _Oh, by the way, I looked at you and you sent me back to a space in time that I have been trying to forget, just rammed down in the back of my mind. It’s nothing personal_. Castiel’s eyes flick towards Sam and then back to the ceiling, breath stuttering in his chest.

_“It was… I was… this is so stupid.” Cas sighs through his nose. “The last time I saw Gabriel. It was also the last time I saw you and Gabriel _together_ — It was _that day_ , Sam.”_

Sam looks down at his clasped hands, Adam’s apple bobbing. “That day, like eleven months ago, that day.”

“Yes.”

Sam gives a small nod that Cas catches out of the corner of his eye. “God, what are you gonna be like if you and Dean ever get married? Gabe and I will have to spend the whole wedding about 20 feet apart.” Sam coughs and says too fast, “Not that we would spend the entire wedding close or anything.”

That gets a quirked eyebrow from Cas and he looks over to Sam, eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Forget I said anything! Look, what you need to do is deal with this.” Sam rubs nervously at the back of his neck.

Reaching up to his hair, Cas puts his fingers through it, trying to get some comfort from the awkwardness of the conversation. “Uh-huh, well, I’ll add it to the list of the other half-dozen psychological problems I’m currently trying to get treatment for.

“Unfortunately there isn’t a pill for “not being able to see your brother and your boyfriend’s brother in the same space while outside”. Yep pretty sure there’s no pharmaceuticals for that.”

Sam blows out a breath. “Cas—”

“ _No_ , Sam. Just… give me some time. It’s just because Gabriel is never around…”

Chewing on his lip, Sam’s forehead has gone full-on wifi. “So, what you’re saying is we need to give you a dose of troll therapy.”

This startles a laugh out of Cas. He chuckles weakly. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Well I’ll be sure to tell him. He’s hiding out at my place like he’s scared to be in the same zip code as you.”

Darkly, Castiel mutters, “Perhaps he is.”

“Oh come on, that’s hardly fair.”

“What’s hardly fair is that I never see my brother. And when I do, it ends up like this.”

Sam rubs at the bridge of his nose, pinching it a familiar gesture Cas so associates with Dean it makes him ache. “We’ll get through it, buddy.” Sam stops and looks up at Cas again. “One step at a time. Okay?”

“Right, one step at a time.” Cas looks down at himself in the bed and considers that he did manage to go outside today. _But only after I ate out my ex in my boyfriend’s bed_ — and Cas curses in his head, as he realizes he’s just moving from one fuck up to the next at the moment.

“Hey, can you let Gabe know I’m,” Cas audibly swallows, because it’s not going to be true, “okay?”

“Dumb question, but sure.” Sam stands up from the seat and Cas glances to him. “I need to check on some things in the office and Gabe. Is it alright if I leave Bones with you?”

“Um, I won’t be playing fetch anymore today.” Cas frowns. He’s not sure he wants Sam to come back here today, feeling the ghost of Meg’s lips.

“He won’t mind.”

“If it’s all the same, I’ve had enough excitement already. Please take Bones with you.”

Sam frowns. “You’re totally sure about that?” His big eyes are so searching, and Cas feels dozens of small needles pricking his heart at once.

Expression blank, Cas only says. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Sam gets to his feet and pats Cas on the shoulder, hand moving up to swipe some hair off of his forehead. “Call me if you need me, okay?... I miss him too, you know?”

“I know.” There’s nothing further to be said.

What kind of monster is he? If Meg weren’t here, would he be propositioning Sam? Sam with his little hints of Dean, and easy familiarity? Sam, who is so warm and open and _kind_ — tears prickle at Cas’s eyes and he turns to face the wall again. _I only want this day to be over._

The tread of Sam’s shoes echoes as he makes his way to the hall. Cas tries not to think about dirt hitting the top of a coffin, shoes living impressions in loose earth; how even though it was Jimmy who has passed, this house has become his tomb.


	20. Chapter 20

It’s never quite the same anymore, the nightmare when it calls, because Cas has stuffed the few memories so far down it’s just vapour that escapes into his unconscious when he sleeps. The nightmare always comes when he’s stressed out and the psychological vent in his mind has been left a little too far open so that Jimmy’s scream can escape again. 

They’re driving back from one of Cas’s favorite art stores. There’s bags of new supplies in the trunk of the old VW soft top Beetle. Cas wanted to try working in charcoal again, see if he could put some sample pages together for an editor who was keen on this one idea that wasn’t Preternatural. The sky was the lazy blue of a summer’s day and they’d had the soft top up and some old Bowie was spilling out of the stereo. 

Jimmy had the day off and Dean was at a conference. Sometimes Jimmy is dressed in a button-up, sometimes it’s an old movie t-shirt for _The Usual Suspects_. This time it’s a plain, navy-blue v-neck shirt and a pair of stone wash blue jeans. Had he ever owned any of these items of clothing? Or was it just Cas dressing him up in something? Castiel didn’t know. 

Cas always wore the same thing: a short sleeved button-up in deep green and a pair of slightly ripped jeans. He hated how he could remember this and not enough detail to give Jimmy some authenticity. 

Silent words spill over Jimmy’s lips, his final ones, but all Cas can hear is the rush of blood into his head and the distant screech of brakes. He’s looking at Jimmy and then he isn’t. VW jaggedly swerves, pushed from the road and driven into a sign. Cas instinctively ducks in his seat, but Jimmy doesn’t in time. 

Blood fills Cas’s vision and he wakes up. 

Screaming. 

Clawing at the sheets, Cas finds himself gasping for air, spots in his vision. A hand is on his shoulder, and panicked, he grabs it, pulling the warm body into his arms. 

“Jimmy…” Cas whispers, a sob wracking his frame. “Jimmy… why…” 

“Shh, there there, Clarence…” 

“Why were you the one that died? _Fuck_ …” 

Meg strokes Cas’s back in soothing circles, murmuring nonsense reassurances into his ear. 

“My fault. It was my fault. I was driving. Fuck, so goddamn _fucking_ unfair—” 

“Yeah, but that’s what we got in this crapshoot. Beating yourself up about it isn’t going to bring him back. I would know.” 

Cas falls silent then, remembering how Meg lost her sister Ruby just before junior year of highschool. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” Meg takes a deep breath. “You gotta live for the people who care about you, Clarence. Live for them until you can live for yourself.” 

“He’s gone…” Cas says slowly. “Dean is gone, too—” 

“Hey, that’s only temporary—” 

“But you are here.” 

“Cas—” 

“You are still here…” His eyes gleaming in the predawn dark, Cas snakes a hand up through the hair at the back of Meg’s neck and yanks backwards, barring her throat. “ _Megan._ ” Latching onto her throat, Cas starts sucking in a bruising kiss, teeth skating this edge of breaking skin. 

“Cas, _no!_ People are going to see, Jesus Christ!” 

His voice is low and dark, guttural: “Silence.” 

Feeling the tear tracks on her neck, nearly lost in the hot press of lips, tongue, and saliva, Meg is frozen and can only comply. The hand buried in her hair lets go, thumb rubbing circles into the vulnerable join between spine and skull. Meg’s breath stutters, and then Cas’s hand is kneading at her ass and she stops breathing. 

“Would you like it if I took you now?” he snarls against increasingly over sensitized skin.  
“You want that, my cock in you? Do you want it in your sex?... or perhaps you want it in your tight little asshole, so you can pretend you’re Dean? So we both can?” 

Meg shakes her head, an unfamiliar prickling sensation high up in her sinuses. _No… not like this, Jesus Christ not like this._

“Cas, I— _No_. Are you even hard?” Meg is shoved onto her back, and then Castiel is pinning her down, grinding himself into her thigh. 

“Does this answer your question?” 

“Do you even have condoms?” 

Castiel glares down at her, as if daring her to ask another stupid question. “You try my patience.... _such impertinence_. Maybe I should just force myself down your throat, that would gag you pretty nicely, don’t you think?” His hand is on her throat then, pressing down over her larynx, and Meg starts to thrash. 

“No. _No_ ,” she croaks. 

Cas stares down at her, straddling her thighs, using a hand to keep her in place while he reaches into the bedside table. Struggling to breathe, a sharp spike of fear and arousal pump her heart-rate up even further when Meg hears the crinkle of a condom wrapper. She can’t look. Her vision’s gone grey at the edges. _I’m wet._ Her pussy is throbbing, uncomfortable where it’s soaking through her underwear. _Fuck me. What in the hell is wrong with me?_

The hand she’d gotten off on what feels like a long time ago now is back on her, pulling down her pajama bottoms and underwear at the same time. It’s wrong and not good for Cas and so fucking dirty and she’s worth more than this, but— 

Cas lets go of her throat and she sucks in deep lungfuls of air, nearly drowning out the sound of Cas _putting a condom on his hard-on, holy Christ._

“ _Gonna fuck you_ ,” Cas snarls, kneeing her legs apart, tangled up in her pj pants, one of her legs forming a near 90 degree angle. 

Meg draws in a shaky breath. “You’re a lot of things Castiel, but I never pegged you for a rapist.” 

“The hell you don’t want this. Panting after me and _my man_ since day one. Well, there’s just me; hope that doesn’t put too big a damper on the proceedings.” Cas pins her hands in one wrist and uses his other hand to drag the head of his cock along her opening. They both hiss. 

“You’re wet.” They both pant. “Open for me.” 

Meg bites her lip and shakes her head. “What’re you gonna do, _rape me_?” 

“No,” Cas says, measured, even. Like he’s stating the time of day. “I am going to make you _beg_.” 

God help her, he does. 

***

The next day finds Cas drawing furiously, page after page thrown off to either side of him. He is silent, withdrawn, and if he had the energy to talk it’d probably all come out snappish. Meg had made oatmeal again, but ended up putting half of it away for later because Cas wouldn’t eat it. 

Instead, he’d sat there and eaten nearly every crunchy vegetable in the house, snapping carrots and celery in half before chomping down on them in cartoonishly exaggerated irritation. It’s almost time for lunch now, and Meg is getting desperate to break the silence. She crouches near Cas (trying not to wince at a small flare of pain), dangling her hands between her knees. 

“Hey? What do you say to thai food for lunch?” 

Cas spears her with a venomous glance that makes her blood run cold. 

“Oookay… that’s a no, then.” Picking up a stack of the rough drafts, she flips through carefully, making sure to keep them in order. “Huh… am I seeing this right? Cassiel got turned by the alpha-werewolf?” 

Cas grunts in assent. 

“Wait, who’s this new character? Oh… things aren’t going well for him. Looks like it’s going to get ugly between him and Cassiel…” Meg frowns in the face of Cas’s furious scribbling. “Wouldn’t it make more sense dramatically for it to be Daley in trouble from Cassiel?” 

“Daley left,” Cas whispers, fingers twitching around the pencil. 

“Yeah, can’t say I agreed with that. After all they’ve been through, there’s no way Daley would leave Cassiel.” 

“She had to. You know that,” Cas’s voice is small, scraped raw. 

“Uh-huh…” Meg cups Cas’s jaw and turns his head to look at her. He refuses to meet her eyes, studying the nap of the carpet. Scrutinizing the most recent drawing, she can see that the bite mark on the new character matches the hickey on her own neck. 

“Clarence… look at me.” 

After a couple of beats, he does, but his gaze keeps dropping. He can’t hold it there. He keeps looking down at his hands and crotch. It comes so quietly Meg isn’t sure she heard it at first:  
“I’m a monster.” 

“I begged you.” 

“I coerced you.” 

“I was wet first.” 

“You can’t control that. What I did was… unforgivable….” 

“Cas, I don’t want you ending up in a psych ward. Is that what’s happening here?” 

Isolated: grey, white, the smell of antiseptic, mothballs, urine, harsh glare of neon, no one familiar there; terrifying.The prick of a needle, the rasp of leather, hard cot, speckled ceiling panels, distant screaming and crying. No _Dean. Never again, never again_... 

“No. _Please_ —” Cas is panting shallowly, shaking. 

“Hey—” Meg puts a hand on Cas’s shoulder. 

Cas jerks away. “ _No_. Can’t be trusted, I can’t be trusted—I’m—I’m an animal—” 

Gathering Cas in her arms, Meg puts her cheek on top of his head. “Shhh. You have free will. You can make a choice. Are you gonna work on getting better and going outside with me, or…?” Meg lets it hang there, and Cas can almost taste bleach hitting the back of his throat, burning through his nostrils. His hair all stands on end at the sense-memory. 

“N-no. I’ll. I’ll be good. I’ll try so hard. You’ll see.” Cas shudders all over and Meg gently strokes down his back. 

“Good boy.”


	21. Chapter 21

Watching and not watching each of Meg’s movements, Cas waits for the picnic blanket to put down on the front lawn. Near the house, because there’s no way Castiel is ready to head near the side of the street yet. It’s sunny and pleasantly warm. _A nice day to be outside_ , Castiel tells himself as he hovers in the front doorway. 

Muscles in Cas’s backs are corded together with existing and mounting tension. There’s so many things wrong with this scene that he doesn’t know which is going to make him crumble into pieces first: his self-loathing over what he has done to Meg? What he’s done to Dean? Being outside? 

The blanket is finally just-so and Meg is beckoning Cas with her hands and smiles, spot chosen. She doesn’t say anything that Cas needs to reply with beyond actions. There’s a couple of cans of soda, cold, waiting on the blanket. He is thirsty, but he can’t bring himself to move. There’s just so much space beyond the door that he could unravel in and forever be lost. 

“Cas, c’mon, sit down,” implores Meg, voice welcoming. Welcoming despite what Cas has done to them. 

Castiel shakes his head. 

“You gonna make me have these grape sodas all to myself?” 

And yes, Cas is thirsty and those are the only two cans they have left until Kevin brings more groceries or Cas begs Meg to fetch more. No, he’s not ready to walk down the street and head to the deli. 

Eyes shifting from the blanket and Meg to the street beyond the lawn, Cas tries to make a choice. A choice that will see his thirst quenched and no chance of him heading towards hell again. 

Cautiously, movements slow, Cas steps out of the front door and walks the few feet to the blanket. He’s shaking as he sits down and tries to put as much distance as he can between himself and Meg. His body craves her closeness, but he doesn’t want to fuel the cry of “monster” that’s rumbling along inside his head. Cas swallows and tries to ask for his soda, but all that comes out of his mouth is a slur of quiet uncertain sounds and he gives up talking. 

“Here,” says Meg, passing him the soda, understanding what it is that Cas wants. 

_But does she really realize what I want? Because I don’t_ , Cas thinks glumly, taking the can and letting its coldness seep into his hand. It’s numbing his skin and muscles, gradually making the limb feel like it isn’t connected to his body. _Maybe I should cut my hands off? Wouldn’t be able to draw for shit, but at least Meg would be safe_. And Cas cringes at this idea, because a tiny part of him would go that far. It’s miniscule, but it’s there. 

“You need to open the can to be able to drink it.” Meg gives Cas a warm smile and he doesn’t deserve her, he’s pretty sure of this. 

Unsteady hands grip the can and Cas pulls the ring. A waft of sugary fruit hits his nose and Cas lifts the soda can to his lips. Messily, a dribble of soda escaping, Cas takes a sip and then rests the can between his hands. 

It’s too early for the street to be really alive. The odd car drives past, but it’s only 2 and all the kids are still at school. Castiel lifts his eyes to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the road and catches sight of an old couple ambling by. Cas feels himself blushing as the husband of the pair points towards him, turns to his wife and whispers something, before both are staring at him. They stare for a minute, whisper more and then continue on down the street. 

“I’m a freak,” says Cas, his voice rough and awkward. He takes a nervous sip of his soda. 

“Cas…” 

“I literally was just pointed at and stared at by two people. Like… like some kind of sideshow attraction.” 

“Your neighbours just aren’t use to seeing you outside,” replies Meg and it should seem logical, but then Cas bitterly thinks that he’s sat beside someone wearing scrubs. It’s clear that something’s wrong with him with Meg dressed for work, like his nurse, sat right beside him. 

“Yes, outside with my nurse so I don’t go wandering off and getting into all sorts of trouble.” 

Cas can practically hear Meg’s frown. “How many of them really know you’re ill? For all they know I’m a friend, visiting after a shift.” 

Shaking his head, Cas looks down at his soda can. “They know.” 

“Does it matter what they think?” 

“I… I want to be able to walk out here, down to the deli and not have people stare at me like I’ve sprouted two heads.” _But that would be helpful, because then at least I would look like a monster and be easy enough to avoid._

“They won’t.” Meg gently pats Cas on the shoulder and it feels so wrong, because she’s the one who deserves to be comforted. Deserves to be told that Cas is the one who fucked up. 

Cas takes another pull from the can and lets the sweet sticky liquid fizz over this tongue and settle in his mouth before he swallows. “I fucked up.” 

“We’re not talking about this now…” Cas can hear the hesitation in Meg’s voice. Hear the way her professional side is warring with her personal side. “I just want you to sit here, relax and drink that soda. Try to clear your head.” 

It was going to take more than a trip outside to clear his head. But he tried. Tried to stop the thoughts. 

Blue sky presses down and channels the hubbub of the neighborhood to Cas. A car backfires. Wind chimes sound lazily. Crows squabble. Cold sweat trickles down his back and his heart wants to break his ribs. There’s a ringing in his ears. It’s too big. Too open. 

The soda can falls from Castiel’s hands and he bolts from the blanket and sprints into the hallway through the still open door. Meg might be shouting after him, but he’s not sure. The blood is too loud. 

Feet working fast, Cas powers towards the closet where they keep the board games and hides inside, slipping to the floor, wrapping his arms around his pulled up knees. He leans against a rolled yoga mat and tries to breathe, letting the small space wrap him up and contain him. 

“CAS!” 

The darkness wraps around him and holds him still. 

“Cas! Where are you!” 

Floorboards creak and then the door to the closet is pulled open. Cas refuses to look up at Meg as she stares at him. 

“Cas, fu— what are you doing in here?” Meg’s voice drifts down to Cas. 

When Cas doesn’t reply, a hand touches his shoulder and he can feel the tears prickling at his eyes. The hand rubs small circles into him. 

“Cas, why are you in the closet?” Meg asks calmly. 

Silent tears spill down Castiel’s cheeks. His eyes go flat and unseeing; Meg has to handle him out of the closet like a doll. 

***

Cas has been quiet all day. 

_Maybe I pushed him too far._ All Meg had been able to do was wrap him up in a blanket and sit him next to her on the couch, one arm tugging him close and her other hand rubbing gently at the back of his neck while they watched re-runs of _Jeopardy._

_I really fucked up. I should’ve been strong enough to say no. Now look what’s happened. Fuck, think positive Masters! How do I snap him out of this?_ Perhaps all that would help was time. 

“Cas?” 

His only sign of acknowledgement is that he pushes his head against Meg’s hand. 

“It’s okay to fail, you know? I get that it was too much.” 

“Last night was too much,” Castiel rasps. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“How could I not… I’ve betrayed my— _Dean_ — and your trust as well….” 

“Clarence, this clearly has done a number on your pretty little head. Just forget it, okay? Tomorrow’s problems are for tomorrow. Let’s just focus on taking it one step at a time.” 

With a pained sigh, he settles his head into Meg’s shoulder. “I’m not even sure it’s about lust. I just— I need—” Cas mumbles into her neck, hands bunching up the fabric on his thighs. 

Meg sighs. “I know, sweetheart. Believe me, I do. If it makes you feel any better, it’s _definitely_ about lust for me.” 

“You… you did … want _it_ , then?” 

“Not at this cost. The last thing I wanted to do was be a weapon for you to hurt yourself with while Dean’s gone. You _do_ deserve to be happy, Castiel, no matter what form that may take.” 

“I don’t… I don’t know how.” 

“You and Dean-o were making a pretty good stab at it, right?” 

“Yes… it was so good he ran away, clear to the other side of the Earth,” Cas grumbles. 

“You can’t be everything to everybody. Hell you can’t even be everything to one person most of the time. Dean’s crap is his own. He’s coming back, isn’t that the important part?” 

“... and now he’ll come back to find that I’ve been weak and undeserving of his trust. Once he’s been away this long… well, what real incentive is there to stay?” 

Meg sighs and gives the back of his neck a little squeeze. “I’ll never know where this self-loathing came from, and I can’t pretend I understand it, because hey, obviously I think you’re pretty great—” 

Cas snorts. “What about me is great, exactly?” 

“—But trust the people that care for you, alright? You’re good enough for us, shouldn’t that count for something?” 

“Academically, I know this to be true, but—” 

“No buts. You’re smart, funny, creative, talented, and _really fucking hot_. Even though it’s hard, you haven’t given up; you keep fighting, trying to do everything that’s asked of you. You think if you weren’t worth sticking around for, the people in your life wouldn’t have cut their losses by now?” 

A long sigh later, Cas replies, “Perhaps.” 

Meg kisses his cheek. “Atta’ boy, Clarence.” 

“Why do you call me that anyway, Meg?” 

“After my sister died… you gave me a reason to hope life wouldn’t be all suck forever. Yeah, I cut you loose so you could be with Dean, but it doesn’t change the fact that before we had our thing, no one had really looked at me like I was worth something since Ruby’s accident.” 

“Meg—” 

Turning slightly red, Meg states, “Give it a rest. I’m not cut out for this sappy crap. Deal.” 

Cas kisses her softly, then. “Come here,” he murmurs, scooting back and tugging her around. Meg follows and ends up with her head in Cas’s lap. He cradles her like she’s worth a damn and spends the rest of the evening stroking her hair. 

Relaxing for the first time in what’s felt like months, a warmth surrounds Meg like a cozy blanket. Right before she nods off, Meg thinks: _I am in so much trouble._


	22. Chapter 22

“Cas, get your butt in here and eat some breakfast!” Meg calls from the kitchen. 

Castiel ignores Meg, desperate to finish the panel he’s working on. He’d woken at five in the morning, pulled on a fresh t-shirt and a clean pair of sweats, no underwear, and left Meg cocooned in comforters. The dream was fresh and he had wanted to commit it to paper as quickly as possible. 

Blue pencil in hand, Cas works in quick sure strokes trying to get the rough forms down before the memory fades. The page he’s working on will need to be scanned, inked on screen, colored and then have captions, speech and sound effects added. But he’s not worried about the details right now. Just the rawness of what he’d seen. 

Daley crawling out of a pit. Smoke. Anger wrenching every movement. Sally staring down in dumb shock. 

It’s three days since he’s last hidden in a closet, and Cas feels like someone’s wound up his springs and let him go. 

“Cas, breakfast!” Meg’s standing in the doorway to the office. 

Castiel lays down one last blue line. “You can stop shouting. I’ll come eat.” He puts his pencil down and stands, shaking his now cramping hand and massaging it with the other. 

“Here let me.” Meg walks over and starts caressing Castiel’s hand before he can protest. 

It feels good and Meg’s thumbs make the pain in the center of Cas’s palm melt away. Cas finds himself getting closer and closer to Meg, her breath ghosting over his face. He presses his lips to Meg’s and kisses lightly at first. She tastes of coffee and sugar. Meg pulls away, quickly ending the kiss. 

“S-sorry,” Cas mumbles, withdrawing already. 

“Cas, hey,” Meg brushes his cheek, “it’s fine,” which is the last word Cas would use to describe any of what’s going on, “but you need to eat some breakfast and I am not a substitute for food.” 

“But you taste so good.” _Seriously? We’re going for cheese?_ Cas frowns and smiles, deciding to take a few steps back from Meg. 

“Uh-huh, Romeo. C’mon.” 

Following Meg into the kitchen, Cas spots a postcard on the breakfast counter between their bowls of oatmeal. The postcard has a picture of Tokyo Tower on the front of it. 

“Dean?” Cas asks, reaching out towards the card. 

“See for yourself.” Meg sits down and starts eating her oatmeal. 

_And how does she manage to be so calm?_ Cas flips the postcard over and starts reading Dean’s tightly packed script. It’s dated one week ago: 

Hey angel, 

I managed to get 5 mins to myself. The ramen here is frigging awesome, but it’s pretty rough, coming all this way to get it. Gonna be the new face of Suntory at this rate. But damn do I miss pie. It’s all cake and crepes in Tokyo. Think you and me got a daylong date with Marie Callender's when I get back. Chomping at the bit to get home, even though the flight back is gonna be a bitch. 

Sappy crap I’m not writing for anyone else to see, 

Dean xxx 

Cas sets the postcard down and drizzles honey into his oatmeal. Spooning a mouthful of the oatmeal into his mouth, Cas finds it thick and cloying. A slow realization creeps through Cas as he tries to swallow. The realization that despite Dean wanting to go on this work trip, he sacrificed a lot to do so. He’d flown to Japan, after all, despite having such a huge phobia of flying. 

Spooning a second of mouthful of porridge, Cas re-reads the postcard. 

“What do you want to do today?” Meg asks, voice warm and comforting. 

Cas stirs his oatmeal and flips the postcard over to stare at the photo of Tokyo Tower.  
“Going...outside… again. Would you find the picnic blanket for me later, please?” 

“Of course, Cas.” The note of surprise in Meg’s voice is clear, but Cas ignores it. 

Breakfast is over soon enough and Cas heads back to the office to scan his earlier panels. He tries not to think about what he’s going to do once the morning’s heated up more. Meg keeps busy around the house, and the avoidance hurts a little, but Cas tries to rationalize that there are chores that need to be done. 

Half-ten rolls in and Castiel finally stops working. Saving his work, he heads out of the office and calls for Meg. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Meg appears at the top of the stairs, laundry basket between her hands. 

“Did you find the blanket?” 

“Yeah, it’s by the couch.” Meg shifts the basket. 

Cas looks at his feet. “If you’re almost done with your chores… would you like to sit outside with me for a while?” 

“Yeah, just let me get this laundry on and then sure.” 

Cas nods and heads into the living room. He waits patiently, breathing slowly, trying to clear his mind and not dwell on what he’s about to do. Distantly, he hears the washer go on and then Meg’s with him. 

“Cas?” Meg stands in front of Cas, blanket in her hands. 

Cas responds with a simple nod and stands. He’s still only dressed in his t-shirt and sweats. Nothing on his feet. Cas notes Meg appraising his attire and seeming to decide there’s no point in saying anything lest she shakes his resolve. 

Reaching the front door, Meg allows Cas to open it. Grasping the handle, Cas turns it and pulls the door towards him. A waft of pleasantly warm air brushes over his skin, scented with early summer. He can hear some crows in the distance. No traffic. The hairs are standing up on the back of Cas’s neck. 

_I can do this_ , repeats through Castiel’s thoughts as he stands by the open door. 

A hand on the small of Cas’s back pushes Cas forward and he steps out through the door. Meg walks after him and sets up the blanket again. Meg sits first, saying nothing. Cas knows she’s waiting for him. 

His heart is trying to pound out of his chest. It takes a few deep breaths to bring it to something more manageable. The sky is blue again, but today it doesn’t seem so vast. Taking the few steps to the blanket, Cas sits down, crossing his legs in front of him, back ramrod straight. 

An undercurrent of rational thought slides through Castiel’s mind as he sits there, trying to drown out his fears. There’s a litany of Missouri’s advice running over the top of it all, trying to bolster him and then he tries to clear it all out of his head and just sit there. Feel the rough wool of the blanket on on the sides of his feet. The warmth of the sun. Breathe in air that’s only a little tinted with smog. 

The weight of Meg’s hand on the small of his back again surprises Cas. He looks over to Meg, who’s smiling at him. 

“You doing okay?” 

“Mmm-hmm.” 

Meg’s hand begins to rub small circles into Castiel’s back and he feels the tension slowly easing out of him. He shifts, stretching his legs out and Meg’s hand guides him down to place his head on her thigh. Castiel sprawls out on his side, like a cat lying out in the sun. Meg’s hand strokes his curling hair, sure and gentle. The moment is peaceful and relaxed. No cars go past and the crows are a distant echo of what they once were. 

Eyelids feeling heavy, Cas begins to drift. Meg’s hand is a reassuring weight, tethering him safely to himself. Sleep finds Cas like a tired toddler taking a morning nap. 

***

Sam rubs his eyes, not entirely sure what he’s seeing. 

“Meg,” he whispers, “What’s this?” he gestures at Cas’s head on Meg’s lap. 

“What’s it look like?” 

“It looks like you being needlessly cosy with your charge, is what it looks like.” 

Meg fights to keep calm. “Needless huh? You gotten him outside before, let alone relaxed enough to pass out?” 

Sam frowns, all the way from his jaw to his hairline. “No, but—” 

“Then can it. Think he’s waking.” 

Cas stirs and makes a sleepy noise. Meg curls a possessive hand around his shoulder before she can help herself. Don’t wake up grumpy, she prays. 

“Listen, it’s great he’s outside, but—don’t you think you’re sending him the wrong message, like this?” 

Cas turns his head to face Sam, eyes half-open and scowling. “What message would that be, Sam? That someone other than Dean cares about me?” 

“ _I_ care about you, Cas. Come on man.” 

Meg sighs and squeezes Cas’s shoulder. “Don’t take being half-awake out on the darn giraffe, Cas.” 

Cas sighs. “Sam, where’s Gabriel?” 

“Didn’t want to spook you again… if you head in, do you want him to join you for a beer or something?” 

Meg feels Cas tense under her hand. 

“Yes,” he says stiffly. “Or something.” 

Before she can check herself, Meg smooths a hand through Cas’s hair. “C’mon. Up.” She catches Sam’s considering look and wills herself not to blush. Fortunately she’s got a lot of practice at keeping a straight face. 

***

Over an hour later, Gabriel and Cas are out in the living room, and Sam has cornered Meg in the kitchen. 

“Meg.” 

“Hey Jolly green. ‘sup?” Meg pushes aside some veggies in a search for more beer. 

Sam lets out a long sigh behind her. “Look is, god I hate to ask this, but is something going on between you and Cas?” 

“What? Just because we were a thing for .2 of a second in highschool before he left me for Mr. Wrestling champ?” That wasn’t how it had happened, but Sam didn’t need to know that. “Come on Sam. That was a long time ago.” 

When Meg emerges from the fridge, beer in hand by the six-pack ring, she sees Sam tapping his fingers on his arm. “You don’t make it seem that way.” 

Refusing to fidget, Meg sets the beer on the counter. “I’m not going to dignify that with a reply.” 

“Meg, I—... I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” 

Meg fluffs her hair, making sure it’s curling over the fading bite mark on her neck. “Just separation anxiety. I’m the nearest warm body,” Meg says lightly, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “That’s all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the brothers Novak are going dry out there.” 

Sam’s mouth snaps shut on what was probably going to be an insult as Meg bustles out of the room. 

***

“Some nurse you got there.” 

Cas smiles. “Yes. Meg has been very helpful.” 

“It’s the most I’ve seen you outside since the whole, you know, thing happened.” 

“Well, you haven’t been here, Gabriel.” 

“You know what I mean. Heard/seen same diff.” 

Cas slouches back on the couch, offering a one-handed “whatever” gesture. 

“How’s progress on your comic?” 

Cas’s expression becomes strangely closed off. With brittle cheer he says, “A new character has made himself known to me.” 

“Oh?” Gabe asks with an arched eyebrow. 

“Yes. Martin. He’s a rogue demon; the reasons behind his machinations are known only to him. He seems inordinately fond of Cassiel.” 

“Huh. Thought you were trying to keep the sausage in your comic to a minimum.” 

“Yes. Boobs do up the click-count and merchandise sales. But he has quickly insinuated himself into the story.” 

Meg comes back in from the kitchen, Sam trailing in her wake like a sad duckling with ruffled feathers. 

Sam resumes his place on the recliner, and Meg settles back onto the far side of the couch, on the other side of Cas. 

“So… Meg. How is it, working with our little nutbar?” 

Meg arches an amused eyebrow at Gabriel. “Oh you know. A lot of inappropriate behaviour inbetween manic bouts of scribbling followed by a preoccupation with cramming himself into somewhere tight and dark.” 

Gabriel’s mouth works soundlessly, and Meg pops the tab on her beer. “He’s fond of closets, as I’m sure you know.” 

Meg can feel Cas tensing beside her, the muscles in his thigh pulling taut as it touches hers. “Please, Meg. I’m sure Gabe and Sam don’t want to hear about… this.” 

Meg shrugs and takes a sip of beer. “He asked.” 

“What happened?” Sam asks innocently enough, but there’s a note of suspicion there. 

“About what you’d expect.” 

“ _Meg—_ ” Cas growls. 

“Cas?” Sam asks. 

Relaxing back into the couch, Cas’s hand is now resting on Meg’s thigh, squeezing. Cas seems unaware of what he’s doing. “Yes.” He looks down. “Not one of my prouder moments. We tried to sit on the porch. I… I got pointed at. This inspired a sudden and regrettable bout of agoraphobia.” 

Brows knitting together, Gabe looks at the hand on Meg’s leg. “And after?” 

“The closet,” Cas says in a small voice. 

“Poor little muffin.” Meg says, patting the hand on her leg, glare daring Sam and Gabriel to say something. “I had to be very convincing to get him out of there.” 

Cas’s eyes blaze, and he pushes Meg against the couch by her shoulders. “You will stop patronizing me and making me look weak in front of my brothers. Now.” 

“Oh but Clarence, you do that all by your lonesome.” 

Cas shakes Meg, hitting her head on the sofa back, narrowly missing the wall. “You loathsome—!” 

Appalled, Gabe and Sam say: ”CAS!” and Sam rushes forward to intervene. Gabe is hot on his heels, ready to get between any of them if need be. 

“Seriously Cas, what the hell?” Sam and Gabe are both dragging him off of Meg. 

Cas goes pale and shaky. “Meg, I—” 

Remaining seated, Meg nonchalantly drains her can of beer in a series of long swallows. 

Sam gestures angrily at Meg. “And you, Meg! You’re a professional! Jesus where do you get off acting like that?” 

“I know what I’m doing. Don’t you worry.” 

Gabe frowns. “Oh do you now. Somehow I have trouble with that idea.” 

“Whether you do or not, I get results. Now if you’ll excuse me, my shift is over.” Meg flips her hair over one shoulder, and while Cas is silent, trembling, and staring at the floor, Gabe and Sam both see the bitemark on her neck. “Got places to see, people to do. Later.” 

It’s a lie, of course. Meg is fully aware she’ll be back for another helping of delicious morally grey sex later tonight. She’s pretty sure Cas is, as well. She makes sure to send him a text once she gets outside. 

_Sorry Cas. They were getting too nosy and you were getting too down on yourself. Hate me if you want. I’ll be back in a few hours._

Meg decides she’s well overdue for a bubble bath. _Think I’m due for a chat with Bella, too._


	23. Chapter 23

Gabriel is humming in the kitchen and Cas has slid to the floor in front of the couch. Sam’s sat on the floor, opposite Cas, back leaning against the coffee table. Cas is cornered. 

“Cas,” Sam says gently, crouching down in front of him. “Can you tell me what that was about, buddy?” 

With a nervous glance up, Cas notes the huge puppy dog eyes bearing down on him and hums nervously, tapping his foot. “No.” 

“You don’t just— you realize you… you could’ve hurt Meg, right? That that was—” 

Cas swallows, willing Sam not to say it. 

“Abusive.” 

“She lets me get away with far more,” Cas says darkly. 

Sam has a limit for how much shock he can feel in one day, and he’s pretty much numb to it by now. “Well, she shouldn’t. Tell me what’s happened.” 

“No.” 

“Cas…” 

Cas reaches up and grabs Sam’s shirt, bringing them nose to nose. His grin is wolfish, manic. “You want me to show you instead? Would you like that, Samuel?” 

Sam shudders and falls back on his heels in surprise, shoving the coffee table well askew and dragging Cas with him. Both of them are temporarily shocked at the position they’re in, limbs tangled. 

Detached, carried along on a current of mania, Cas feels like he’s watching himself from outside his body, looking down from above, someplace far and distant. “This is better,” he murmurs, “all the hard planes and angles I’m used to…” Cas tangles his hand in the back of Sam’s hair and uses it to line their mouths up. 

“Cas, you are, what are you—” 

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to. In particular, don’t ask stupid questions. In fact, put that mouth to better use.” Cas closes the distance then, pressing his lips to Sam’s stiff numb mouth. 

Sam takes in a deep hitching breath. _Help._

Gabe appears then, bowl of brownie batter leftovers in one hand. “Whoa there little brother, you are being ten kinds of inappropriate right now.” Gabe plunks the bowl down on the couch and hauls Cas up by the scruff of his shirt, to his knees. “Now let’s play nice and lick out this bowl, huh?” Gabe puts the bowl in Cas’s hands and sits him on the couch. 

Cas falls on the bowl like a ravening wolf, ignoring the spoon to scoop the batter and suck it off his fingers, in a toe-curling display of lasciviousness. 

Sitting there motionless, Sam catches his breath, dazed. 

“C’mon, Sam. Don’t keep making yourself into a target. Straighten up,” Gabe whispers, holding out a hand. 

“I’ve never seen him this bad. What the hell was that?” 

Gabe puts his hand on the small of Sam’s back and walks him to the bathroom, where the two of them are _definitely not hiding from Cas._

“He probably had a break of some kind. I’m not entirely sure why.” 

“But why the—” 

“I dunno kiddo. How much do you know about your brother’s sex life?” 

Sam shudders, turning the cold water on. “Way more than I want to, already.” 

“Yeah? You didn’t have to live with that mess during his teenage years.” Gabriel shudders, looking at his hands while he picks at his nails. “He’s gonna crash, soon, you know. He’s going to come back to earth and feel awful, then doubly bad because you weren’t exactly happy with the pawing and smooches.” 

Splashing water on his face, Sam is silent for a long moment. Eventually, he turns off the tap and sighs. Water drips down as he asks “How do you know all this?” 

Gabriel hands him a towel. “Long family counselling sessions. He wasn’t the most level even before… before Jimmy, you know? So sometimes he falls into pushing and pushing until people either give into him or never talk to him again. Either way he gets attention.” 

“I know he’s been moody and… I always kind of suspected, but… I didn’t know it was this bad. Dean needs to come home. He never should’ve left. Though I’m starting to get why he would.” 

“At least Cas goes outside now.” Gabriel puts a hand on the doorknob. “Like I should be doing. Join me or don’t.” 

Sam nods and Gabriel opens the door. He strides out into the living room, smile plastered on his face. “Hey tiger, how’d that treat you?” 

“It was delicious. Thank-you, Gabriel.” Cas’s eyes narrow. “Where is Sam?” 

“Oh, you know…” Gabriel sits beside Cas, pats him on the knee. “What was all that with Sam? You really freaked the poor guy out. I thought we were past this alpha male peacock stuff?” 

Cas flares his nostrils, puffing out his chest a little. “He was intimating he had a better idea than I do about how to live my life. I will not be looked down on by _anyone_.” 

“No one’s doing that. Just…” Gabriel gestures helplessly. He looks Cas in the eyes and wipes a smidge of brownie batter off his cheek. “Please, little bro?” 

With a defeated sigh, Cas deflates. “Alright.” 

Floorboards creak and Sam steps into the living room, shoulders slouching, knees a little bent. Cas looks up at Sam and realizes that Dean’s brother is trying to make himself a smaller target. The taste of brownie batter in his mouth turns bitter and Cas has to remember to breathe. 

“How long until the brownies are ready?” Sam asks neutrally. 

“Oh about another 15 minutes. Timer’s set.” Gabe stands up and stretches, straightening out his short frame. 

Tilting his head back, Cas tries to find out how Sam is handling things, sneaking glances at his face. Not that it’ll make any difference to the slow churn of shame that Cas’s stomach is mixing the brownie batter to. _Not only have I fucked my ex, I now seem determined to cheat on Dean with his brother._ A shudder runs down Castiel’s spine. _I’m disgusting. I shouldn’t be here—_

“I should be locked up,” Cas whispers to himself. 

“Sorry, didn’t catch that.” Gabe sits back beside Cas. 

Pulse quickening, Cas stands up. “Need to… not…” His head whips from side to side, like he’s evaluating his escape routes. 

Gabe grips Castiel’s hand and squeezes it. “Cas, stay with us.” 

“No. Shouldn’t.” Cas jerks his hand away and heads for the stairs. He wants distance, space. 

Sam blocks his path, he can’t get by. “Hey, Cas, chill. There’s no need for this.” 

The idea that Sam still wants Cas to stick around, after what he tried, feels wrong. Sam reaches a hand out and touches Castiel’s shoulder. Part of him gets this is meant to be reassuring, but Cas blanks Sam, Gabe, the room, out. His legs work of their own accord and Cas sits down on the floorboards, legs crossed, back hunched. Cas grips his knees, knuckles going white and stares at nothing between Sam’s legs. 

“Woah, Cas!” says some distant voice that might be Sam, but Cas does not respond. 

Hands grip Cas under his arms and he’s brought to his feet. The movement hardly registers. He is dimly aware of his surroundings changing, of leg muscles being forced to move like the legs of a puppet on strings. Not long and he’s in softness, stretched out and is still, the movement gone. 

Quiet whispers nip at Cas and he draws himself in. Saving who, he doesn’t know. 

***

Sam chews on his lip while he waits for Meg to come back. _As much as I hate to admit it, she seems to be the only one that can reach him when he’s like this now._ Gabe and Sam had taken turns keeping watch for a couple of hours after putting Cas to bed, and tried to rouse him at half hour intervals. None of their efforts had snapped him out of his catatonia. 

Gabe hears Meg’s car approach first. “Oh thank God.” 

_Yeah. Not that I can agree to thinking that about that home-wrecker. Fuck, I gotta’ get Dean on skype or something_. Sam stays seated, sending Dean a text over FB messenger. 

_Need to skype call. Like ASAP dude. Shit’s gone down over here. Cas is fine. Just need to talk to you_. And hits send. _I hope that didn’t freak him out. But this is serious._

Opening the door, Gabe and Meg face off with equally neutral expressions. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

Gabe steps aside and Meg comes in. 

“Cas?” 

“Poor little dude’s been BSOD’d for hours. Neither of us can get him to snap out of it.” 

The first soft expression Sam has seen from her crosses Meg’s face. “It’ll be okay.” Meg pats Gabriel’s arm gently. 

Speaking up from the couch, Sam asks. “Are you… are you really okay, being alone with him? Cas he… he implied…” 

The smile on her face becomes tight, a little smirk playing at the corners. “It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before, sparky. Don’t worry, I can put all of humpty dumpty’s pieces back together. It’s my job.” 

“Right,” Sam mutters. 

“Okay. We’ll leave you to it… if you’re _sure. Call us_ if you need anything, Meg. and I mean that,” Gabe says. 

“Will do. Make sure you lock up.” Meg heads upstairs. Gabe and Sam exchange a look. 

_Are we really doing the right thing?_


	24. Chapter 24

That night, Meg and Cas lay there together in a dark as comforting and enveloping as the blanket over them. 

"Today, I—" 

"I'm sorry, Cas." 

"I got worse. After you left." 

"What?" 

"I... came onto Sam. Rather aggressively." Cas pinches his nose and sighs. "He was insistent on questioning me about you." 

Meg silently curls up into Cas. He slowly pets her hair. "I was furious. He has no right to tell me how to live my life." 

After humming assent, Meg asks: “You get up in his face?” 

“Yes, I—” Cas falls silent then. His fingers twitch in Meg’s hair like’s he’s restraining himself from re-enacting what he did to Sam. “Meg—  
“Meg, I—” 

“You don’t have to say it, Cas.” 

“I was aroused. I was hard, when that gun was pressed into my head. When that junkie had his finger on the trigger, a twitch away from blowing my frigging brains out.” 

There’s a long beat of silence, and carefully, Meg says, “It’s not so rare. You know. People react in all kinds of ways to stress.” 

“Intellectually, I know this… but inside? I feel like the lowest form of dirt. Less than the lowliest creature, tunneling through sediment. Eating rotten wood and corpses. When I…. when I think about how I wish it had been Dean and he’d just pulled the fucking trigger.” 

“Cas, no…” Pushing up onto one elbow, Meg raises her head and looks at Cas with wide eyes. 

“I think of him, spattered in my blood and brains, free. Free of all of this. And I feel _happy_.” 

“Cas!” Meg looks outright shocked out of her usual sanguinity, her hand comes up to cup Cas’s cheek. 

“He’ll always be a work of art: my muse. But, he is still young. He can find someone less damaged.” So softly Meg barely hears it, he whispers, “Someone who doesn’t get off thinking about being on their knees in front of him fellating a gun. Imagining the taste of metal and the feel of the sight as I curl my tongue around it and bob my head. Someone who hasn’t watched him cleaning his father’s old revolver and wished he’d take the gun oil and—” 

Meg slides her hand over Cas’s mouth. “Clarence, enough. Honestly. I know Jimmy’s death was really hard on you and the robbery was more shit on the pile. You can’t blame yourself for random urges. For anything that helps you deal. Look at how far you’ve come! Before Dean left, how many times had you left the house?” Meg removes her hand. 

“Not… not since the robbery.” 

“It’s been three times now, Cas! You’re okay! You’re getting better, so much better, all the time.” Meg gently strokes his cheek, rasping the stubble with her nail. 

Cas lets out a heavy sigh and then is silent for a few moments. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when Dean returns. I should leave him, for his own good. But I don’t know how to leave. I can’t even walk down the block. I feel as if I’ve suckered him. He certainly deserves better. Maybe the cheating will do what nothing else has done.” 

Meg tilts her face up and whispers into Cas’s ear. “What if he got even?” 

“What are you saying?” 

“You know what I’m saying.” 

“No.” 

“You think he didn’t sow any oats while in Japan?” 

“I… No. Probably not.” 

“If he fucked me too, you’d be fair and square, right as rain. What do you say, Clarence?” 

“ _No._ ” Cas flips Meg over, and a few moments later, is asserting his dominance. 

Meg’s eyes water as Cas pounds into her hard and fast. _Yeees. Oh that is so good. _  
“You don’t think it’s fucked up, Cas?” Meg pants into his neck. “That I like this? That I get off on the fact that I shouldn’t like it and it’s wrong?”__

 _ _Cas is silent for a beat, then. “Do not make me gag you.”__

 _ _

“That kinda sweet talk will get you everywhere.” 

Cas grunts in response, bending her legs back so her knees are pushing into her chest and fucks her even deeper. When she comes, Cas follows. Their twined screams startle the birds from the windowsill heralding dawn. 

***

Waiting on a Skype call at 9 in the evening wouldn’t be so nerve wrecking if a) Sam hadn’t sounded so damn panicked in his messages and b) had agreed to a phone call that meant Sam is about to call Dean at 4 in the morning, Sam’s time. The internet cafe that Dean’s managed to find himself a corner in has everything he needs. There’s an iced tea at his elbow, Dean figures he’ll _drink_ after, and he’s setup with a desktop PC, webcam and headset. 

It’s a little weird actually. For the first time in weeks he feels like he has more privacy sat in the corner of a heaving internet cafe, surrounded by dozens of people, than he has in the shared apartment his company assigned him. Sure he keeps getting the odd look thrown his way, but he’s the green eyed, dirty blonde gaijin sat in the middle of a busy slice of Tokyo. He didn’t expect any less. 

Maybe he should have already hit the booze, the way his stomach is twisting and knotting itself as Dean tries to stop panic rising inside him. 

Tapping on the Skype logo on the pc, Dean signs in and waits. 

_Hey Sammy. You gonna be ready soon?_

 _ _Sure. Just a sec._ _

_

A few moments of impatiently drumming his fingers on the keyboard later, Dean settles a handy gaming headset on and is greeted by his brother’s face for the first time in months. 

“Sammmmyy!!!” 

“Uh. Hi. H-hey Dean.” Sam is looking into the camera with a closed off expression. “Wish I could say this was under happier circumstances, but…” 

“Straight to business huh? Not even a how-do-you-do, did they actually get you to eat raw fish yet?” 

Sam’s mouth quirks up on one side in a weirdly bitter expression. “It’s funny you should say that. Before you left, how did you feel about the way Cas and Meg were with eachother?” 

“Fine. I mean, he trusted her, and that was all I could ask for.” Dean sighs and scratches at his jaw. “I mean well, okay, it was weird that she’s kinda been in both of our pants, but…” Dean shrugs and looks up at Sam’s window. 

His little brother is currently doing a bang-up impression of a goldfish. “R-really?” 

“Uh yeah.” Dean shifts in his seat. “You know I got around in school. We had shop together.” Dean scowls. “Listen Sammy, what’re you driving at?” 

“Meg’s been good for Cas in some ways. I mean he’s been getting worse and worse since you’ve been gone. He… he nearly—” Sam chews on his lip and his gaze is abstracted. After a couple long moments of silence, Sam squares his jaw, forehead deeply wrinkled. “He kissed me, Dean. And not on the cheek, dude.” 

Sitting back in his chair, Dean feels numb with shock. “It’d be one thing if you said he and Meg had gotten a bit too flirty—” 

“He uh… he very strongly implied that it’d gone way past that with the two of them.” 

“Christ.” 

“He’s out of control. I… I worry he’s _physical_ with Meg. Outside of the other stuff.” 

“Cas ain’t got a mean bone in his body, Sammy.” 

“I don’t even know how you can say that with a straight face.” 

“It’s not like—he’s just hurting and scared and gets defensive, okay? Guy ain’t got all his marbles. It’s not really his fault.” 

“Unbelievable. I just told you he’s probably fucking his nurse, _in your bed_ , and kissed me, and you’re still defending him? I guess that makes it true love.” 

“I can’t just take your word for it, Sam. Even if it’s kinda Cas’s word, too. I gotta see this for myself. It’s a lot to take in. I’ll try to rush getting home. I’ve reviewed the company wide policies and seen the safety practices for all the larger plants. All that’s left are some smaller ones further out. It’s not essential. I think the guys I’ve been doing this with have a good enough idea of what I look for by now.” 

“Right… well. Anyway you can make it happen... have you heard from Cas lately?” 

With a sigh, Dean picks up his tea and twists the cap off. “No. I feel like I’m getting shut out lately. I know I’m an asshole and shitty at texting and stuff, but…” 

“He fainted the first time Gabriel came to see him. And yesterday? He mentioned hiding in a closet after going out. I’m not even sure when that was. After that… thing that happened, he went totally catatonic and wouldn’t respond at all.” 

Dean growls. _“Where the hell was Meg?”_

“I uh… I kinda. I pissed her off. She said her shift was over and left. But when we couldn’t get Cas to snap out of it, and it’d been hours, she came back.” 

“I hope you _begged._ ” 

“Jesus, Dean, do you not care about yourself at _all?_ ” 

“She helps Cas. That’s all I need to know. You tell me he’s been outside like three times in a month? I’m goddamn thrilled. You tell me she gets him to crawl back out of his head when nobody else can and I’m fucking stuck halfway around the damn world? You bet your sweet ass I’m last on the priorities list. Now, you got any more bombshells to drop on me or can I go get blind stinking drunk on the finest cheap whiskey Roppongi’s got to offer?” 

Sam sighs. “No. Dad’s still… you know. Upstate and about as well as can be expected. Mom’s as chipper as ever. You missed your god son’s second birthday though, Benny and Andrea were a little sad about it.” 

“Well I’ll bring them back a bunch of candy as a bribe and hope it’s water under the bridge. Thanks for taking the hit and going in my place, Sammy.” 

“Yeah. Sure… Listen, Dean—” 

“Nah. Think I’ve done enough of that for one day. Not talking about my girly-ass feelings. I got cat cafes to avoid and majong games to lose. Later.” Dean slides the mouse pointer over to the red hang-up button and hangs up. He’s logged out a second later. 

The iced tea is still cold, but it’s too syrupy and surprisingly thick as Dean tries to glug it down. He’s clearly agitated now and he’s getting the odd wary eye, but he doesn’t care. A bottle of whiskey sounds just right, but as Dean’s feet carry him out of the cafe, messenger bag on his shoulder, the prospect of heading straight to his apartment doesn’t sound so good. 

“Home” means hassle and no outlet. Standing just outside the cafe, Dean tries to think where he could go and get booze and let loose some of the anger that’s churning away inside him right now. Eyes wandering the glimmering street, lights pulsating into the night sky, bodies moving deep and fast, Dean sees it. 

Sees salvation. 

The karaoke bar swallows Dean up the moment he crosses the threshold. Five minutes later he’s got a glass of Johnnie Walker, courtesy of some very cute women who implore him to pick a song and sing for them. 

Dean has an audience for his aching, breaking heart. 

Flipping the computerised menu to English, Dean picks his song and hopes that his new friends don’t mind him starting with something so primal and hurt. 

Body swaying to the growing synthetic beat, mic in hand, Dean waits for the intro to finish playing (it’s an unabridged version of the song), Finally, he sucks in a breath and starts to sing: 

“I've become... impossible. Holding on to when… when everything seemed to matter more. The two of us… all used and beaten up. Watching fate... as it flows... down the path... we have chose…” Dean’s voice is gravelly and raw as he begins to work his way through Nine Inch Nails’ _“We’re In This Together”_. 

Reaching the first chorus, Dean is screaming into the mic, fury and aggression starting to seethe out of him. His vocal chords are going to be wrecked by the morning, but he doesn’t fucking care as he grips the mic with both hands like he he’s praying into it: 

“You and me. If the world should break in two. Until the very end of me. Until the very end of you!” Dean shrieks the end of the first chorus and ignores the stunned looks he’s getting from his audience. 

Dean’s skin feels hot, his blood is pulsing in his ears as his heart hammers in his chest. His shirt is sticking to his back. The final chorus comes up and Dean snarls as he works his way through it, vocal cords screaming at him to stop: 

“You and me. Even after everything. You're the queen and I'm the king. Nothing else means anything!” 

There’s a moment of stunned silence as the end of the track plays out. Dean finally looks at his audience again, the women staring at him with surprise written over their faces. One of them starts clapping and then another and they beam at him. But it’s too much. 

Dean heads over to the bar and orders another glass of whiskey. He’s served promptly and swallows the scorching liquid in one go, the final lines going over and over in his head. _Fuck, because isn’t that just the damndest thing, you’re everything Cas. I’m here and I still can’t,_ Dean lets the whiskey warm his mouth. _Can’t leave you, even after all the shit._

_I couldn’t save you, couldn’t save_ dad. _I’m so fucking worthless._ Another whiskey makes its way into Dean’s hand. Meg’s smiling face creeps up into Dean’s thoughts and he grimaces as he takes a swig of the amber liquid. _And what the hell do I do about you? WHAT THE HELL AM I—_

A hand taps Dean on the shoulder. It’s automatic, the way Dean pivots, fist connecting with his colleague’s jaw.

_

__


	25. Chapter 25

Keyboards are quietly tapping away, snatches of phone calls in Japanese or English echo through the large open office. There’s a hint of Tokyo skyline down one side, visible through massive windows. Dean’s boss has his own private office of course. No one looks up at Dean as he makes his way past the rows of occupied desks. His throat burns every time he swallows. Last night’s performance is not agreeing with him. 

Dean knocks on his boss’s door. 

“Come in,” calls James Oshiro in perfect English. 

Opening the door, Dean’s head is bowed for a second and then he looks to his boss. James is only a couple of years older than Dean, slimmer frame, his Japanese heritage clear everywhere bar his eyes. His eyes are green, a shade lighter than Dean’s. Different circumstances, different lives, and Dean knows he’d try to pick James up if he met him in a bar. But he can’t think like that now. 

“You asked to see me, sir?” Dean says in a level voice, trying to ignore the stab of pain that runs through his right knuckles. 

“Yes, come in and close the door, please.” 

Dean does as he’s told. The door falls closed behind him with a thump that is far too loud or maybe it’s just Dean’s imagination, because James— _damnit, Mister Oshiro_ , Dean reminds himself—doesn’t flinch or glare at him. Mister Oshiro’s face remains neutral, bar the calculating look in his eyes. Dean approaches his desk and waits for the rebuke. For the angry words. 

“Mister Kita has agreed to not press charges,” Mister Oshiro says in a calm voice. “Your behavior last night, clearly was unacceptable. I know you have already apologized to Mister Kita, but I am left questioning if you should remain here.” 

Dean hasn’t been asked to speak, so he remains silent as Mister Oshiro pauses. 

“Why did you punch Mister Kita?” 

Calmly letting out a breath, Dean straightens up. “It doesn’t justify it, sir, but I had some distressing family news yesterday. Unfortunately Mister Kita was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

Dean watches Mister Oshiro, a flicker of understanding passes across his face as he weighs this news. His boss nods. “Things are not good at home?” 

“My partner is really not doing well in my absence,” Dean replies stiffly. It’s just an excuse now, to help the hint of sympathy beginning to warm Mister Oshiro’s face. 

Mister Oshiro taps a few keys on his laptop. “Your progress has been exemplary, all things considered. Team members here should be able to resolve any further issues. I believe it’s time you went home to your family, Mister Winchester and our West Coast office of course.” 

_They’re not firing me!_ Dean keeps his face composed. “Thank you, Mister Oshiro.” 

“You may pack today. I’ll have my secretary forward you your flight details. Goodbye.” 

Dean nods respectfully and leaves Mister Oshiro’s office. Dean’s steps are brisk as he makes his way out of the building. The pain in his knuckles remains, his throat is sore and his heart still aches, but he’s allowing himself to see the light on the other side now. 

Reaching the subway, Dean tries to decide whether he should let everyone know he’s coming back. He’s not sure. 

***

Today isn’t another offensively beautiful day like the past week has been. It’s overcast, a soft white light; fog surrounds Castiel like a cocoon as he haunts the doorway. A short distance away, half-swallowed and ghostly, looms the eucalyptus tree he’s spent many summer and fall afternoons reading beneath. 

_Just a little more. One more step. Then another. Then another. Until you’re there. That’s how this works._ Cas slowly puts another foot down. He doesn’t think of gunsmoke. And another. He doesn’t think of the clerk’s panicked face. And another. He doesn’t think of plaster raining down. And another. He doesn’t think of Sam and Gabriel’s panicked faces. And another. 

He doesn’t think of Dean, holding his hand in the hospital, whiter than the walls around him, washed out and pale like the afternoon around him; an echo. He doesn’t think of the robber’s blurred face, or Jimmy’s indistinct body beside him in the car in his dreams. He doesn’t think of crumpled signs or bodies thrown out of passenger side windows or his own in the back of an ambulance. He doesn’t think of more white walls, endless corridors and the harsh glare of neon. 

Instead, he admires the green of the newly awakened leaves from the gentle nurturing of spring; vibrant and lovely like Dean’s eyes. The familiar almost menthol smell wraps around him in the muffling blanket of the fog as he stands beneath his tree—the reason they’d settled on this particular house. The bees high up in its branches are still resting, snug in their hive, and the street is deserted and silent. It would be eerie, but— Castiel feels safe in the isolation. As if he is the only person on the entire street, maybe the entire world. 

He breathes out a long sigh as he slowly rubs his fingers over the rough, gnarled bark. Closes his eyes as he caresses a familiar and missed knurl in the wood. _It’s okay. Everything is going to be alright._ Castiel just exists in the moment, a deep calm seeping into his bones as he traces cracks in the tree, the webbing between forefinger and thumb forming a v where a branch is sprouting out of the trunk. A sense of peace and interconnectedness with the universe winds through him, and he wonders how he ever let memories stop him from having this. 

Castiel stretches his arms up overhead, grabbing a sturdy branch and hangs from it, feet swinging a couple of inches off the ground. His shirt rides up but he doesn’t care; he just enjoys feeling every muscle in a way he hasn’t in so long. 

***

Meg wakes up to a cold bed. She gropes futilely beside herself for a couple of heartbeats. “Cas?” 

Turning about in their nest of blankets, the grumpy bedheaded object of her affections is nowhere to be seen. _He’s probably in the can. But if that’s true, why is the bed cold?_ Panic grips Meg as she throws the bedding aside and gets to her feet. _What if he’s holed up somewhere again? Crap…_

Grabbing a robe, Meg covers up and checks the en suite. _Nope._ She checks the main bathroom and the guest room. Still nothing. She hurries downstairs, and walks through the living room and into the office and there’s still no Cas. Meg’s heart is gearing up for something special if she doesn’t find him soon. The kitchen is bereft of his company and so’s his new hiding place in the hall closet. 

A chill gust catches her robe and Meg notices that the front door is open, just a sliver. Apprehension weighing down her limbs, Meg walks up to the door and opens it all the way. It’s foggy outside and she can’t see clearly through the swirling gloom. Tentatively, she steps outside and tries to see if Cas is within about the eight feet of garden that she can see, but he’s not. 

_Why would he run away? Surely Cas wouldn’t. Not unless—_ the sound of a branch shifting ahead and leaves rustling stop Meg’s train of thought. Slowly, she walks over the front lawn and down to the source of the noise. The fog swallowing her as he goes, her sphere of existence shifting. 

Swinging from a tree, like some kid, is Cas. Arms stretched, tummy peeking out from under his rucked up shirt. Meg can’t see Cas’s face. Doesn’t know how he is. Cas sways while holding onto the branch and Meg stops walking towards him, afraid she’ll startle him and cause him to fall. He’s not very far off the ground, but letting go now would be painful. 

The branch groans and shifts under Castiel’s hands, leaves bouncing. Cas stands on his tip toes, hands still gripping the branch, and then he swings again. A satisfied hum floats towards Meg through the fog, a gift from another world it feels. Because not in a million years did she expect to find Cas dangling from a tree. Not now and maybe not ever. 

Castiel finally stops moving, arms straightened for a second and then he lets go, landing on his feet. As if he’d just performed a successful dismount, he keeps his arms up in the air and then bows to an imaginary crowd. Meg watches, transfixed, unable to get her voice working. She wants to call Castiel’s name, but she’s still having some trouble believing in what she’s just seen, what she’s seeing now. _This is fifty shades of gray in an entirely new and weird direction._

Gracefully, Cas turns on the spot and he finally sees Meg, standing there, only a robe on to cover her nakedness. 

“M-Meg?” There’s a feverish gleam in Castiel’s eyes and his hair is going in every direction possible. 

“Hey, Cas…” _I can’t say I was worried, I can’t, he’ll think it was wrong to go outside._ “You okay?” 

Cas takes a few steps towards Meg and smiles. His cheeks are more flushed than she expected. 

“I am okay.” Cas glances back towards the eucalyptus tree. The exertion has pushed him a little though, that’s what Meg is seeing. 

“Coffee?” 

The nod Castiel enthusiastically gives is filled with a childlike innocence that he has no right in owning, Meg feels, _but maybe he does_. She looks at him sweating in the chill fog, soon to catch a chill. Cas is going outside again, _like a rebirth, rising from the ashes of his past._

Offering an encouraging smile and holding her hand out to him, Meg waits until Cas grips on. They walk back up to the house in silence, but now Meg can feel a new energy buzzing through Castiel. He could be getting better, but Meg can’t help feeling—as Cas bounces on his feet in the hallway—that there is a hint of his mania here, tainting his actions.


	26. Chapter 26

It’s only a few more days before Gabriel has to return to New York. Meg has taken the day off, and it’s just Gabriel and Cas. The weight of that third person that should be there, their lost sibling, hangs thick in the air. 

Gabe had tried hard to keep it light. He really had. _It’s fantastic Cas went outside all on his own. Still… I can’t let him bask in that, as much as I’d like to. He’s got to be taken to task for the crap he’s been pulling lately._ It was a shame, though. Cas looks the most relaxed he’s been since Gabriel showed up. 

Rubbing a thumb nervously around the rim of his bottle of cream soda, Gabriel clears his throat. Cas looks up at him from across the chessboard, narrowing his eyes. 

“Hey, little bro…” 

“Yes. I still lay claim to that dubious title, given that you are easily shorter—” 

“Ha ha. For serious though, real talk time. Meg seems… _okay_. And Sam isn’t mad, _mostly_. But what’s going through that pretty little head of yours lately?” 

Castiel looks down, pad of his thumb rubbing over the tip of a bishop, nail scraping at the sphere on top. “You know what’s going on.” 

Gabriel advances a pawn one space, capturing a rook. “Sure. Let’s say I do. Why do you think it’s okay?” 

“I… don’t. I hate myself.” On the far side of the board, Castiel breaks out his knight, capturing the pawn. In a whisper, face blank, he continues: “You know this.” 

“Cas… you are. You are so brave and _good_.” 

Castiel looks up briefly then, drawn by the painful sincerity in his brother’s voice. “I cannot comprehend how you can say that. Given… _everything_.” 

Squeezing Cas’s knee under the table, Gabriel sighs. “Because it’s _true_. Listen, I know that crap when we were kids was rough. And it’s all I can do to not beat myself up about it for being so damn oblivious every single day. But we _move on_ , Cas.” 

“I took Jimmy’s place… for what little good it did. Of course in the end, only the good die young.” 

Advancing his remaining rook just out of reach, Gabriel scowls. “Don’t be so maudlin, bro. You’re still here, after all.” 

“I’ve always been cursed. A good man, a brilliant man, sinned with me—” 

Gabriel scoffs. “Don’t give me that shit about uncle Luke. If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been some other flavour of the month, year, Hell, whatever. He was _sick_ , Cas!” 

Castiel sighs, and takes a risky move, setting up a pawn to be consumed by the queen.  
“Yet, he was brilliant. His art was _exquisite_. I tainted him.” 

“Nooo… we’ve been over this, Castiel. He had a thing for twins, even if that meant being inappropriate with his underage nephews. You spared Jimmy that.” 

“It was a privilege to be under his tutelage. I was the problem.” 

Taking the opening, Gabriel ignores the pawn and goes after the knight with his bishop. “I can’t believe after all these years you’re still spewing that crap.” 

“I was the one. I pushed Meg. She never—” Castiel advances the pawn another space. 

“Sure. Sure. I know that.” Gabriel pushes a hand through his hair, and rests his chin on his knuckles, elbow on his knee. “I guess maybe she even likes it. But Sam? Do you not see how you’re repeating the pattern all over again?” 

“Yes. Do you not see why I consider that hateful?” Castiel glares a challenge at Gabriel. 

“I guess.” Gabriel sighs and captures the pawn with his queen. “But you don’t have to, Cas—you can just, let it go. Make your apologies and end it now before Dean comes back, and then grovel until that beautiful bastard forgives you.” 

“What if I don’t want to? What if I want the smell of a woman all over me, showing him how worthless and weak I am? Nothing has seemed to convince him!” Cas bring his hand down hard, causing his knight to fall on its side. 

“Hey. Hey now, Cas.” Gabriel’s honey coloured eyes bore into him, hand closing over Castiel’s trembling fist. ”You can’t think like that, because you and I both know nothing ever will.” 

“He deserves better.” 

“Most people do. Deserve better than what they get out of this shithole world, that is. But he chose you. He keeps on choosing you, every single damn day. Doesn’t that count for something?” 

Castiel squeezes his eyes shut. “Yes. He also chose to leave me here. What’s to say now that he’s had freedom, he won’t want to stay gone?” 

Gabriel squeezes his hand and stands the knight back upright. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, no one ever tell you that, Cas?” 

Yanking his hand out from under his brother’s grounding grip, Castiel glares at the chessboard. “He won’t marry me. How can I know this won’t be what finally scares him away? I’d rather know. I’d really rather have things final, one way or the other.” 

“You can’t always get what you want.” Gabriel comes around and ruffles Castiel’s hair, which the latter tries to duck out of. “But if you try sometimes—” 

“Ohh, you are _insufferable_.” Castiel storms out of the room, and Gabe watches with a smirk while he grabs a beer. 

“Yeah, but you love me.” 

Cas’s tense back speaks volumes as he pops the cap off with exaggerated slowness. Lowly, voice even, Castiel throws out. “Yes. Does this mean you want to have a physical relationship with me as well?” 

Gabriel whistles. “You kinky fucker. You are some piece of work.” He shoves away from his chair and rounds on Cas in the kitchen, settling a hand on his shoulder. “You know love hasn’t got to be physical. You’re being obtuse, little bro.” 

“Do I? What do I really know?” Cas trembles under his touch. 

“Cas—” 

“It should’ve been me. Jimmy was the pure one.” 

“Cas—” 

“I kissed him. I touched him too, the way uncle Luke touched me. Did you know?” 

_Apparently there’s a never ending series of things I’m always going to be the last person to know. Christ if I didn’t suspect, but—_

“It felt good,” Cas continues in a broken voice. “I wanted him to feel good.” 

“You were a _child_. I’m sure you just couldn’t make sense of it any other way.” _This is an awful bitter pill to swallow._

“It wasn’t—it wasn’t until Dean—I. Jimmy said it wasn’t fair to him. So good, so pure—” 

“Cas—” Starting to feel like a broken record, Gabriel grabs Cas’s shoulder and squeezes. 

“I had to have someone take his place, don’t you see? I couldn’t even stop on my own.” 

Gabriel spins Cas by the shoulder, takes his face in both of his hands. “ _Dean loves you._ I love you. Jimmy loved you. Sam loves you. God Cas, open your damn eyes. It wasn’t your fault. _It was absolutely not your fault_ — Then.” 

Cas refuses to look up. “Dean will leave me and I’ll just sucker someone else into taking his place. And then what? Or maybe I’ll just rot away. Just me and my crappy _doodles_. I am not a tenth the man uncle Lucifer was.” 

“Yeah? Well you’re not a tenth of the asshole he was either. Christ, snap out of it, bro!” Gabriel gives Cas a little shake, and Cas has that unfocused look Gabriel remembers so well from when he was a teenager. 

“Are you saying I should try harder?” Frost settles over Castiel like a mantle, straightening his spine to rigidity as he grabs Gabriel’s hands on either side of his head. _Oh fuck._

There’s no getting away as Castiel kisses him. Instead of resisting, Gabriel just lets him do what he wants, not tensing up, quietly enduring it until the fury drains out of Cas. A couple of moments later, the show of submission works and he withdraws, looking intently down at Gabriel. Gabriel weakly strokes his thumbs on Cas’s cheeks. 

“I’m not mad.” 

“I’m disgusting. Wretched.” Castiel lets go of Gabriel’s hands and steps back. “Ruined. _Soiled. Unworthy_ —” Cas’s eyes are too shiny in the light of the kitchen as he brings the beer to his mouth and drains it. 

“It’s okay, Cas. You’ve got busted wiring. There’s only so much you can do. Just please, please, stop beating yourself up about it where I can see, okay?” 

“Of course.” Castiel hurls the beer bottle at the sink—shattering it—and stalks out of the room. Gabe hears him go into the bedroom and sighs. 

_I only ever make things worse. I couldn’t do anything back then, either. Stupid stupid stupid. I shouldn’t have come._ No, that feels dishonest. Cas needs to see him, needs to get that crap out of his system. Moving someplace new that didn’t remind him of Jimmy had been for the best, well, until that awful afternoon at the convenience store—but Cas needs his brother. _He’s still got me left. I need to act like it._

As he expects, Cas is curled into a ball on the bed, shaking, unresponsive. Gabe drags a chair up to the side of the bed and cards a hand through Cas’s hair while browsing reddit on his cellphone. He feeds Cas choice bits of news, occasionally laughing, and Cas stops trembling and eases off to sleep with deep, even breaths. 

_That wasn’t so hard._ It had been one of the scariest days of Gabriel’s life. 

***

It was just the wrong side of magic hour; golden rays of the setting sun making the off-white of the canvas glow. Castiel and Lucifer had been working for hours; Jimmy was modeling, as usual. 

There wasn’t much for Jimmy to do because he really didn’t like leaving Castiel alone with uncle Luke. Cas insisted on studying under the master; Lucifer was a prolific painter and sculptor. He could be off playing with his friends, sure, but… well this was keeping him in pocket money. So it was cool. Mostly. Plus the house was full of neat stuff and secret passages. 

Castiel stretches, popping all the kinks out of his spine. Jimmy doesn’t miss the way uncle Luke’s eyes track the movement and narrow. 

“Please excuse me, I need a bathroom break,” Castiel mutters, voice hoarse from disuse. 

“You know where to go,” uncle Luke says. 

Nodding, Castiel leaves the studio for the hallway. Jimmy stretches and gets up to follow.  
“Me too.” 

“No… you stay here.” 

“Huh?” Jimmy frowns, with all the indignant boredom a teenager can muster. 

“You and I… are going to have a little chat.” Lucifer crosses the room and puts a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. 

“Um, okay…” Jimmy tries to shrug out from under the hand, but his grip only tightens. 

“Here is the deal… I have certain… _tastes_. I can limit myself to those who wish to indulge them. _Mostly_. I’m no saint.” Yellow light washes Lucifer’s face, shading to red. “I believe your big brother of what, ten minutes? Yes. I believe he would do….” he trails a fingertip down Jimmy’s chest, “ _anything_ , for me. Especially to keep me doing it to you.” 

“Uncle, I don’t know what world you’re living in but it’s not this one—” 

“I’ll keep his precious virginity intact—and I will not force him to do anything in anyway—if you keep your mouth shut. If you don’t…” the sunset stains Lucifer’s smirk bloody, “it’ll be so much worse. And then your poor brother will be the object of public shame and ridicule. No chance of any kind of normal life. _Marked_. Do you understand?” 

“We’ll just never darken your door again. Me and Cas both,” Jimmy hisses. 

“Oh, but that would make poor dear Castiel _so_ unhappy. You must’ve noticed…” Lucifer pushes Jimmy, jabbing him in the solar plexus; he stumbles back a step, heel bouncing off the half-pillar he’d been posing on. “He _worships me_. Who do you think he’ll choose?” Lucifer buffs his nails on his smock, gloating down at Jimmy. 

Defeated, Jimmy sighs. 

“I’ll continue paying you for your time, of course. With a little extra…” Lucifer licks his lips, “incentive.” 

“I can’t believe I’m related to you.” 

“Oh, believe it. Blood wins out.” Lucifer smirks. “Trust me.” 

Castiel wakes from the dream, gasping. Jimmy had told him, sort of, years later. At the time, Jimmy had been too furious and not willing to lose Cas over it, so he’d kept his mouth shut. It’s been a long time since he’s thought about uncle Lucifer. A very long time with all these memories pushed very far down. 

Looking to his side, he sees Gabriel nodded off in a chair. _All I ever do is hurt my family._


	27. Chapter 27

Gabe hands over Castiel to Meg’s care in the morning—like he’s some patient being kept under constant watch—and the feeling of being babied rankles with Cas. But Cas keeps his mouth shut for once as they stand in the front hallway. 

“So, I’ll stop by before I head back. But Cas,” Gabe reaches out and takes Castiel’s hand and gives it a squeeze, “remember you can call me whenever. Alright?” 

Dumbly nodding, Cas allows himself to be drawn into a hug, trying to avoid feelings of self-loathing mixing with the memory of the kiss he had taken last night. Catching sight of Meg’s face as Gabe hugs him, Cas sees a querying look and he rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, if I need to I will call you. Gabe, you may stop hugging me now.” 

Gabe lets go of Cas and slaps him on the back. “You love i—it.” Gabe catches himself too late and Cas hears it there, the unpleasant knowledge of what Cas revealed while they were alone. Hears the knowledge tainting Gabe’s interaction with him. 

A weak smile rises to Gabe’s mouth and Cas watches his brother nod at Meg and leave. Meg closes the front door and steps in front of Cas. 

“You eaten yet?” There’s genuine concern in Meg’s voice. 

Stomach growling, Cas shakes his head. “Only had coffee.” 

“I’ll make some toast.” Meg brushes past Cas as she heads for the kitchen. 

Following, Cas sits at the breakfast counter and watches Meg work. A tut escapes her as she digs through a bag of sliced bread for the last few slices. 

“Good thing Kevin’s stopping by before lunch. Oh,” Meg looks straight at Cas she hovers by the toaster, “and Sam’s bringing Bones over in a bit.” 

Cas hadn’t even glanced at his cell so far this morning. _I could try playing at being normal_ , Cas muses to himself. 

***

 _This is normal_ , Cas repeats to himself as he launches a frisbee towards Kevin, Bones running between them as piggy in the middle. It’s coming up to lunch time and Cas can feel Meg’s eyes watching his every move, despite the magazine in her hands. Watching for signs that he’s about to freak out or worse. He tries not to let her gaze get to him, but it’s difficult to play at being normal when you’re under abnormal levels of scrutiny. Cas looks over to Meg purposefully and finds she is reading her magazine. _Cas, how about we try not to be a paranoid idiot? Because being one doesn’t work with being normal._

Kevin had finally gotten through his burning new _Evangelion_ questions and Cas had been wondering if maybe he should see the new movies for himself. They’d been outside for almost half-an-hour, playing near non-stop. Cas could feel himself beginning to fatigue, but he didn’t want to stop. He was having fun, despite Meg’s vigil. 

“I heard a rumor that Preternatural is getting a new character soon, is that true?” Kevin asks, snatching the frisbee out of the air before Bones can. The teenager is surprisingly good with the frisbee, despite his short stature. 

“The rumors may prove to be correct.” Cas waits for the disc to head his way. 

“And that the new character is a guy.” Kevin launches the frisbee towards Cas. 

“This may also prove to be true.” Cas almost gets the return frisbee and then Bones barrels into his legs, causing Cas to fall down onto his ass, air knocked out of him. 

“Cas!” Meg rushes over from her viewing post and crouches beside him. 

“I’m fine,” Cas wheezes, batting her concerned hands away. 

Kevin walks over. Bones has the frisbee now and is sitting down with it clasped in his jaws. All attempts to play at being normal were slowly falling out of Castiel’s reach, control disappearing with it. It’s Kevin who offers Cas a hand to get up and he gratefully takes it. Meg rises with him and Cas tries to ignore the concern on her face. 

“Well, I better get going.” Kevin lets go of Cas’s hand. “Thanks for letting me hang out. ‘Til next time.” 

“Yeah, until next time.” Cas nods as Kevin begins to retreat into the house. 

“Don’t you want your payment, Kevin?” Meg pipes up and starts following him. 

“Oops, yes.” 

Cas watches Meg and Kevin head into the house and disappear. He’s alone again, bar the sounds of Bones chewing on the frisbee. 

“Am I going to have to ask Sam to bring another one?” Cas asks Bones, turning to look at the dog. Bones’ tail thumps on the lawn and Cas rolls his eyes. Sweat is making his shirt stick to him and he realizes he should probably freshen up before he has lunch. 

Heading back into the house, Cas hears the front door closing. He opens the cupboard, reaches for a tall glass, and pauses. The glasses and dishes share a cupboard, and though he’s gotten used to the sight, the permanently shorter stack of dishes is still an uncomfortable reminder of the night Dean told Cas he was leaving for Japan. 

Light footsteps tell Cas that Meg is behind him. His fingers curl over the glass and he looks at the sink, noticing a stray shard of glass from the beer bottle he threw in there the night before. 

_I wonder who cleaned it up, Gabriel or Meg?_

The hairs on the back of Cas’s neck and arms prickle. _We’re very alone_. Cas turns and favors Meg with a wavering smile. “I’m going to clean up.” 

The glass feels like it’s about ready to slip out of Cas’s sweaty palm as he notices Meg’s appraising gaze taking Cas in. He notes how Meg bites her lip and furrows her brow, seemingly willing herself to stop from doing that. “You b-bet. I’ll get something going with the veggies Kevin brought today.” 

Nodding, Cas steps away from the sink and heads upstairs. Meg tries not to watch after him, but once he’s safely in his bedroom, Meg lets out a long breath. _Get a grip, Masters. All he did was play some frisbee, shirts are gonna slide up._

Claws scratch along the kitchen floor tiles and Bones noses at Meg’s leg. “Okay, I’ll get you some water.” 

***

The water streams down Cas’s body as he stares at the untouched bottle of shower gel Dean prefers in the corner of the shower caddy. With trembling fingers, he picks it up, flicks the lid open, and brings it under his nose to smell. Coconut, cloves, ocean... The wave of arousal, longing, and despair that spears through him makes his knees fold. Trembling, he kneels with the spray pounding down, teeth chattering despite the heat of the water. 

_I fucked up I fucked up DeanDeanDean…_

Cas screws his eyes shut, tears merging into the pounding spray. _Come back, come back, come back, beloved. Return. I don’t— I can’t—... Please, Dean, without you here, I— I can’t not think about it anymore. All the things that have tormented me, without your light to burn them away, the shadows they, they creep in...I…_

The way uncle Lucifer had looked at him, the way he’d made Castiel beg. The way he’d gotten on his knees, and felt those strong, exquisitely sensitive sculptor’s hands trace his every contour, carving him into a whimpering crying mess of his image. The way he’d been made to beg for release by those divinely skilled fingers, seeking out his most erotic and secret places. _Dirty, so dirty, such filth… so weak…_ until uncle Luke had gotten bored and said he had nothing else to teach him, that he was never going to match his brilliance. 

The way he’d done the same to Jimmy, desperate for acceptance, for his twin to be complicit in this, brought low as he. The same lonely and soiled creature as Castiel— but Jimmy had been different. Pure. Instead of biting him, instead of tongue crammed down his throat, instead of devouring Castiel whole, Jimmy had softened every kiss. Jimmy had talked him down. Jimmy had given him endless gentle reassurances and told him it wasn’t his fault, had hugged him through his tears and shivering. No matter how many times Castiel was inappropriate, climbing into bed with him and putting a hand down his pants, Jimmy only whispered soft encouragement and acceptance. But he was gone, and Castiel can only lay so much blame on the drunk driver that hit them before it curls back around to choking rage at his own failures. Uncle Luke was gone too, in a murder-suicide that was still largely a mystery. 

And now Dean, his last anchor, is gone and there’s horror after horror. There seems to be no bottom, no new low that Castiel will not sink to. Gabriel had tried to be there for him. Meg had tried. Sam had tried. All the rage, all the shame, all the despair he feels, it needs an outlet. He can’t stay here on the floor until the water runs cold, and why should he, when there are funner options afoot? 

Castiel freezes over. His face becomes an impassive mask as he shuts the water off and towels himself dry. 

He pads into the kitchen in only a towel, and sneaks up on Meg as she’s pushing some stirfry around in a pan. 

“Hello, Megan,” Cas croons, putting his arms around her waist. 

“Hey yourself.” Meg continues stirring, and while she doesn’t relax into his touch, she doesn’t tense up either. 

“Do you feel that? What you do to me?” Cas rubs his erection on her ass. 

“Mm, yeah, s’nice.” 

For a moment, with Meg cooking lunch and responding so like Dean, it shakes Cas’s detachment and he nearly falters. Nearly. 

“Be a lot nicer with you bent over the table, my throbbing cock deep within you.” 

Meg shudders, nearly dropping the spatula. 

“I saw the way you were looking at me. Even in front of Kevin. Dirty, willful, _girl_ ,” Cas snarls this last, prising the spatula out of her grip and taking the pan off of the heat. 

“You want it… don’t you?” Turning Meg around by the shoulder, Cas glares down into her face. “Don’t deny me. You _will regret it_.” 

“C-Cas…” _where does my sweet gentle Clarence go at these times?_ “I’m hungry and you should eat. Can’t it wait?” 

“I’ll just make you gag it up again when I pound it out of you… do I _look_ as if I should be kept waiting?” Cas slides his hand down to Meg’s, and puts her hand on his erection. 

Meg scoffs and gives him a squeeze. “I guess not. Still, the table? Trifle unsanitary, ain’t it?” 

Dragging her by the arm, Cas presses her up against the counter and hisses, “I will use you when and how I want. You are _mine to be used, cockhungry little slut_.” 

Shuddering all over, Meg can’t get her jeans unbuttoned fast enough. Once she’s pulled down the fly, Cas viciously rips down, baring her from waist to ankle. Grabbing her hips hard enough to bruise, Cas shoves her up onto the laminated countertop and then spreads her legs. 

“Yes… this is how you should be. Bare and spread open for me.” He bends down and licks a slow deliberate strip from her center up over her clit. Meg arches and braces herself on the edge of the counter. Cas pushes her legs up by the knees, exposing her further, presses his tongue inside of her and Meg moans. 

“Whatever you say. Just keep doing that!” 

Focusing on his task, Cas pauses intermittently to make threats and promises while Meg quivers above him, only loosely holding onto any semblance of composure. 

“Wanton, slattern _whore_. So wet and loose for me,” Castiel growls, shoving three fingers in and out of her. 

Meg gasps, “Don’t talk to me like that,” while her hips buck. 

“I’ll do whatever I want, say whatever I want. I know you love _all of it_.” Cas adjusts his angle, and one slick finger abruptly slides into her ass while two other fingers mercilessly rub at her g-spot. Eyes rolling up into her head, Meg meets Cas’s movements, tension of multiple kinds making her draw into herself. 

“Beg for it. Beg for my cock, _whore_.” 

Glaring down at Cas, Meg spits on his face. 

Wiping it off, Castiel steps away, towel falling to the floor. “That’s your answer?” 

Trying to smirk and look imperious instead of badly shaken, Meg mutters, “Yeah.” 

“Fine. Bad girls don’t get what they want now, do they? No…” Using his grip on her legs, Cas pushes his cock into Meg, dry, and completely unprotected. 

Despite herself, Meg moans at the slight stretch, revels for a moment that Cas wants her so bad he’s completely lost his mind. Reality quickly asserts itself though, and after a few moments, Meg hisses “Cas, _no! What the fuck are you thinking?_ ” 

Scrambling to get away, Meg tries to squirm out from under Cas, but the counter is slippery from her sweat and she’s not having any luck. 

“Bad girls get punished. For not asking nicely, for not begging me pretty, you’re gonna get what you deserve.” Dragging his wet dick out of Meg, he pulls her further forward, and aims _lower_. 

“C-Cas, no, you’re— that’s really going to hurt me—” 

Dropping one leg, quick as a striking snake, Cas backhands her. “Silence! You failed to do as you were told, this is the result!” He thunders, quickly rearranging his hands and shoving and shoving the head of his dick until it presses to the tight ring of muscle, causing Meg to swear. 

Of course, it’s then Dean happens to walk in, while Meg is a hairsbreadth from being split open and tears have started to run down her reddened face. _I’ve never been so humiliated in my life_. “Cas, I don’t want this… please stop…” Meg shuts her eyes, unable to bear the sight of Dean’s shocked, ghost-white face over Cas’s shoulder. 

“Oh, _now_ you beg. How unfortunate it is that you’ve learned your manners too late to do you any good,” Cas growls, starting to push inside. 

“Cas… _what the fuck?_ ” 

“Yes, fuck. That is _exactly_ what I am doing.” Doing a shallow thrust then, Cas causes Meg to whimper. 

Dean rapidly crosses the gap between them, and pulls Cas off of Meg. “Meg is _crying. Frigging **Meg** is **crying. Jesus.**_ ” Averting his eyes, Dean picks the towel up off of the floor and passes it to Meg. Cas has gone eerily silent beside him, flattening out, becoming wooden. 

Meg wraps the towel around her waist and scrambles off the counter, picking up her bundled underwear and jeans as fast as she can manage. “Dean— this… this was a hell of a thing to come home to. I’m… you know.” 

“Cas, _out._ ” 

“Of course.” Uncaring of his nudity, Cas retreats to the bathroom. 

“Meg, I don’t even know what to say to you right now. I’m… I’m so fucking sorry.” Dean takes her pants and underwear, and holds them open so Meg can step in. “I… if you want to press charges… I totally. I get it, okay?” 

Buttoning up her pants, Meg sighs. “No...I. He’s got enough problems, Dean. I don’t want to see him back in the psych ward any more than you do. Or worse.” 

“It’s okay. You can— you can stop. With the—” Dean clears his throat awkwardly, mutters, “Oh, Hell,” and tugs Meg into his arms. Her arms stay at her sides for awhile, but eventually Meg wraps around Dean’s neck and cries into it, hot tears soaking his collar. 

“He got _so bad_. I don’t… I don’t know _what the hell happened_ , but one moment he’s outside playing with Bones and Kevin, the next he’s pushing me up on the counter, and the… the crap coming out of his mouth— and okay, I played along with it, but then—” 

“I know.” Dean strokes Meg’s hair, chin on top of her head. After a sigh, Dean asks, “Was Cas alone with anyone else, you know, recently?” 

While she wants to draw back and see Dean’s expression, Meg very much does not want Dean to see anymore of her embarrassing lapse of self possession. “Gabriel. He was over all last night. What’s that got to do with anything?” 

“Cas has… a lot of issues when it comes to family. Sometimes there’s a kind of, bleedthrough, I guess you could call it, when Gabe’s around. It puts Cas in a shitty headspace, which is partially why I was cool with him moving so far from where we grew up in the first place and why I didn’t give Gabe shit about not visiting.” 

“He…. he said some things. About guns. It… it scared the hell out of me. He needs his meds adjusted and more therapy, Dean. He can’t go on like this.” 

“I know. We’ll work on it. In the meantime, I totally understand if you don’t want to see either of us ever again.” 

“I can’t just… I can’t just walk away. The guy I— my Clarence, he’s still in there somewhere.” Meg draws back and wipes her nose on her sleeve. “You should go to him. He’s probably one boot short of going full toontown right now.” 

Dean tries to smile for her, green eyes soft and open in a way they usually never are. “Do you have someone to talk to, someone to stay with?” 

“Yeah.” Like hell Meg is going to let another person see her like this. Even Bella, well she’d either scorn Meg for letting things go this far or try to cut Cas’s nuts off. Probably both. 

“Okay, good.” 

“I’ll take Bones with me.” 

“Oh,” Dean mutters distractedly, “that mangy mutt’s around here somewhere?” 

“Yeah.” Turning back to the sink, Meg splashes cold water on her face and takes a couple deep breaths. Feeling Dean’s eyes on her back, she says, “I can see myself out.” 

“Okay. I better go to Cas.” Dean wanders off in the direction of the bathroom. 

Dean finds Cas sitting on the closed lid of the toilet seat, still completely naked. He crouches in front of his lover, taking Cas’s hands. 

“Heya’ Cas. I’m back.” “I noticed.” Cas stares blankly at the wall. 

Dean chuckles weakly, tongue darting out to swipe over his lips. “Did you, you know, _want_ me back? You and Meg—” 

Cas closes his eyes. “I have loved you, cherished you, all of this time. You are the only one who’s ever kept my demons at bay.” Cas sighs and opens his eyes. “But now I think you should go.” He still won’t look at Dean. 

“You think, huh? Well what I _know_ , mm’kay, is that I have never given up on you, and I’ll be _damned_ , a cold worm-eaten rotten corpse in the ground, before I let you give up on you either!” 

“Dean—” 

“ _No_ , Cas. I ain’t giving up on us, or on you, you hear me? We’re gonna get through this, we’re gonna sort it out. You, me, Meg, whatever this is, okay?” 

“Sunk cost fallacy.” 

“What?” 

“You’ve sunk so much time into being with me, you think you have to stick it out for some reward. Well I’m telling you, you don’t. Cut your losses, Dean. I beg of you.” 

Dean scoffs in disbelief. “You are full of at least ten different kinds of shit right now, Cas. 

“Look, maybe me going away for awhile is to blame. Maybe shit happened over these two months that would’ve taken a couple more years. But it’s on me. I should’ve, I should’ve been able to come back—” 

“You did.” Cas squeezes Dean’s hands and looks up at him then before dropping his gaze. “But I cannot. Adulterer, rapist… I now number them among my sins with the incest, general failure at being a decent human being and a functional adult.” 

Tears slowly slide down Dean’s cheeks. “Cas, Cas you gotta work with me here. I can’t do squat with you so determined to hate yourself.” 

“I’m not worthy of your devotion. I’m used up and worthless.” Cas starts to shiver. 

Dean stands up only long enough to grab a towel, and wraps Cas up in it. “Shush. Hush, baby boy. I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. Never again.” 

The towel’s surprising softness runs counter to the barbs of self-loathing that are digging their way through Cas. Body still shivering as he is cocooned by Dean and the towel, Cas chances a look at Dean. Meeting the full power of Dean’s gaze, his rich green eyes inviting forgiveness and healing, Cas feels the barbs drag to the surface every feeling of unworthiness he has ever had. 

Cas returns to staring blankly at the towel. “It’s pointless,” he says in a small voice. 

Dean’s hand touches Castiel’s face, but it’s calloused skin and heat feels light as a feather, though Cas is dimly aware that it’s heavier than that. 

“Cas?” 

There’s no one home.


	28. Chapter 28

_You better not be leaving hairs all over the back seat_ , Meg thinks as she catches a glimpse of Bones sitting patiently, tongue rolling, seat belt over his frame. It’s such a mundane thought to be having, so _fucking normal_ and Meg isn’t sure she should be congratulating herself or getting ready to head on out for some little self-therapy involving a bottle of Jack and all the loneliness in the world. 

Reaching the parking for Sam’s apartment complex, Meg pulls into a free visitor’s space and turns off the engine. Bones barks, somehow realizing where they’ve reached and begins to loudly sniff the air. Meg doesn’t want to move, but then she doesn’t want Bones to be miserable. 

“C’mon fleabag,” Meg says with a fondness that is genuine. She’s grown to love Bones’s company over the past two months. She gets out of the car and opens the door for Bones, grabbing his leash and then letting him out. Locking her car, she heads on into the complex. Sam was meant to be working from home right now, but she hadn’t wanted to call ahead and check. 

Bones starts to whine once they reach outside the door to the block. Meg waits a moment and then presses the buzzer for Sam’s apartment. 

There’s a clicking over sound and then Sam’s voice sounds through the speaker. “Who is it?” 

“Hey Sam, it’s Meg here. I got Bones.” 

“Oh, I didn’t expect—” 

“You gonna buzz us up?” 

Bones barks. 

“Sure, of course.” 

There’s a buzzing sound and then the door to the block clunks open. Meg slips inside, being dragged along by an increasingly impatient Bones. They head up a few flights of stairs and soon enough Meg is outside Sam’s apartment. 

The door isn’t open. Bones looks up at Meg expectantly and Meg frowns, feeling her own hesitation grow. But she was there now, no point in running, _that would raise too many questions._

Taking a few steps forward, Meg knocks on Sam’s door and then she hears movement from deep inside the apartment. A chain is pulled back and the door opens. 

Sam beams down at Meg and Bones, though the happiness is probably reserved for the dog. “I wasn’t expecting company, but I guess a break in work is nice. What brings you by with the goofball?” 

“Hey, so apparently your dumb-ass brother decided to come home early and told exactly nobody.” 

Sam raises his eyebrows so high up on his forehead it’s a wonder they don’t fly off.  
“Yeah? C’mon in…” Leading Bones inside, Sam leaves the door open for Meg to follow. 

Trotting behind Sam, Bones’s tail is waving cheerfully. _I’d wish I was a dog, but then I’d miss out on all the fun stuff like booze and getting to choose my own food._ Stepping out of her shoes, Meg gives an inaudible sigh. 

Perching on the sofa, dog’s head nuzzling into his lap, Sam ruffles the fur between his ears. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy? Gimme your paw, buddy!” Bones gives Sam his paw. “Shake!” Sam laughs, and if it’s edged with something darker, well, there’s no need to mention that. 

Meg decides to sit on the armchair’s arm, leaning against it instead of fully sitting. A couple of minutes pass while they both distract themselves with the dog. Finally, Sam is fondling the velvety corner of one of Bones’s big floppy ears when he asks, “So… I take it Dean walked in on something, huh?” 

_Yeah. Sure did…_ “Not exactly what you’re thinking.” 

“Was he pissed? Are you going to stay on?” 

Meg bites her lip and avoids Sam’s gaze. “No...I wouldn’t say Dean was… _angry_. Not under those circumstances. I’m not wholly sure. I don’t want to leave them to their little downward spiral of awkward and mental break downs, but I don’t—” 

The weight of Sam’s gaze feels heavy. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so unsure before. Meg, you’re—you’re acting really strange. Did something else happen?” 

Meg looks up sharply, predictable, like a sucker, and she really thought she was a better actress than this—because those huge hazel eyes have gone near blue with concern. _Sam’s worried about me. Well probably worried about me because he thinks Cas has done something to be worried about, but still._

“Something with Cas?” 

_I don’t want to look weak. I can’t… he doesn’t need to know how bad I screwed up. It’s shitty enough that Dean saw me cry, and comforted me like I wasn’t the third wheel fucking up his not-marriage._

“Meg?” 

Her hands are incredibly interesting right now. Meg knows she should probably do something about her nails soon. 

There’s a shadow over her that wasn’t there before. 

“What happened?” 

Without looking up at Sam, Meg stiffly replies, “Stuff. Stuff happened. And now you get to spend extra time with Bones and—” 

Sam lays a hand on Meg’s shoulder. It’s meant to be comforting and some part of Meg knows this, of course she knows this. But it doesn’t stop her snapping away from the touch and scrambling to her feet like she’s been shocked with a live wire. Her breathing is fast and her eyes hurt as she looks to Sam. 

“Woah, Meg! What the hell?” 

Bones pads over and sniffs at Meg’s fingers before deciding to lick them. Meg’s shoulders are rigid, her back is ramrod straight. Deliberately easing back into a slouch, she shrugs.  
“Let’s just say Cas crossed a line, okay? Let’s say he was like a toddler with a coloring book, and if Dean hadn’t come home…” 

Hovering nearby uncertainly, Sam blinks rapidly. “Meg—” 

“Whatever. Nothing… nothing really happened.” Meg bends down a little and strokes Bones’s head. 

“Look, you came here with Bones, in the middle of the afternoon and you’re trying to tell me “nothing really happened”? I’m not gonna buy that Meg, even if Dean just happened to suddenly return without even telling me.” Sam takes a step closer and Meg takes one back. 

“Oh, Dean’s back alright. I assume that part’s your doing.” 

“Don’t try to change the subject. What really happened?” 

Meg takes a deep breath. Some part of her really does want to tell someone what happened. She’s just not sure that someone is Sam. “What do you care?” 

A guilty look draws itself over Sam’s face and then disappears as quickly as it formed.  
“Because I’ve seen and heard things this past month that have… left me deeply concerned… and…” Sam’s clearly struggling to voice this, “I may have told Dean what had happened—” 

“I knew it!” 

“But that doesn’t mean I ever wanted you to get hurt!” Sam shoots back. “I care, Meg. Even if it might not always seem like it. What happened?” 

With forced casualness, Meg mutters, “He didn’t take no for answer,” and worries at a thread in her sleeve. “No big deal. Dean showed up before he could… before I really got hurt. There might’ve been spitting, slapping, and name-calling involved…” Meg shrugs in the face of Sam’s appalled silence. “You know, all good kinky fun until someone loses an eye, but—” 

“Meg… I—I don’t know what to say.” Sam audibly swallows. “Are you… Do you need… Meg, are you okay?” 

_Of course I’m not._ And Meg wants to say it’s all water under the bridge and that she’ll be all kittens and rainbows after some Ben  & Jerry’s and maybe a soppy film or too. But she won’t be okay, because her Clarence is gone somewhere and she needs to get him back, because she doesn’t believe it was Cas that hurt her today. It was somebody else wearing his skin. 

“I’m…” Meg stalls, unsure what she should say. Maybe Sam had done the right thing after all, telling Dean, _but I don’t have to like it._ “I’m not okay, but I don’t know how I am either. Happy?” 

“Christ, that is the _very_ last thing I am right now. Is he dangerous? Should we—” Sam chews on his lip, forehead heavily furrowed. “Should we have him committed? If you want to press charges… I totally understand.” 

Meg scoffs. “Funny, your brother said the same thing. No, I don’t want to press charges. And the last thing Cas needs is to go back into the looney bin, he needs to be around familiar stuff and feel safe.” 

“You’re… you’re really amazing, Meg. After all this… you’re still worried about how Cas feels.” Sam squints, in a gesture he probably picked up from his not brother-in-law. “It wasn’t just a game to you, was it?” 

“No. All I’ve ever wanted to do was help him. My own selfishness just got in the way for awhile. I _knew_ it was a terrible idea to give into his pestering, that it wasn’t any good for him. Really this whole mess—it’s my own stupid fault.” 

Sam steeples his fingers. “So, you never came onto him.” 

“No.” Meg sits cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against the side of the armchair. Bones drapes himself over her lap. 

“It was really all Cas?” 

“I stayed, didn’t I? And I didn’t ever really say no… well not until today. And you heard how that went,” Meg replies bitterly. Petting Bones, Meg looks up at Sam and shrugs. 

Rubbing at his face, Sam gives Meg a pained look. “I believe you.” 

“Don’t say it like you mean it. Wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.” 

Sam’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. “I do believe you,” he says levelly. “Is there anything I can to help? Anyone you want me to call? Or do you want… a cup of tea? Anything?” 

Letting out a long, considering breath, Meg realizes that she is thirsty. “Water would be good.” 

“Okay, water I can do.” Sam turns and heads to the kitchen. 

Catching her breath, Meg slowly counts up and down from 1-10 a few times before Sam returns. He hands the glass to her and his gaze is intent as she tips her head back, drinking it all in one go. 

“Thanks. Well, story-time’s over. I’m out. Gonna drown my sorrows in a pint of chunky monkey and reruns of Redshoe Diaries.” 

“Meg.” Sam’s eyes are huge, dewey, vulnerable, and so full of pain Meg feels kind of embarrassed on his behalf. 

“What?” 

“I… I feel terrible. Christ, I should’ve. I should’ve stepped in. I never should’ve let this continue once I suspected—” 

“Hey now, it’s only been this past month or so.” 

“Please, Meg can I… just come here. Please?” Sam holds out his arms, and like some kind of doofy puppy-dog eyed scarecrow, he looms over her. 

It’s an out. One she actually really kind of needed. “If it’ll make you feel better, Samantha.” Meg steps into Sam’s arms, and is immediately completely enveloped, feeling small but not— threatened. Just wrapped up and safe, a feeling she hasn’t really had since she and Ruby had been very small. _Damn. He gives really awesome hugs. I guess I know where all the touchy-feely Winchester genes went._

Except that wasn’t really true, was it? It had been much better, being hugged by Dean (though maybe that was due in small part to her attraction and history with him? Who knows).  
She’d seen it in a million small touches, unconscious gestures: the elder Winchester was a really hands-on guy. _I guess I can’t blame Cas too much for losing it after months of not having anything like this. I forgot what it was like._

Sam’s heartbeat is steady but on the faster side; he breathes in and out like a nervous colt, his breath stirring her hair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, over and over. Meg’s skin starts to crawl. It’s too much. He had better not be pitying her. 

“Stuff a sock in it, Winchester.” 

“S—sorry.” Sam shuts up and hugs Meg a little longer before squeezing her just a touch more and then letting his arms fall away. 

Flashing Sam the shortest grateful smile she’ll allow herself, Meg shifts awkwardly on the spot. “Okay… Right, well,” Meg starts for the apartment door, “I’ve got a very important date with David Duchovny and that chunky monkey.” She can feel Sam following her towards the door. 

“If you need anything, Meg, um… Lemme know, okay?” 

Meg turns and Sam is still giving her the full on concerned puppy look. 

“I’ll think about it.” Before Sam can demand that she does anything, Meg is opening his door and stepping out of the apartment. No one follows her as she beats a hasty retreat and tries to keep her feelings pushed down, so she stands a chance of making it home in one piece rather than wrapping her car around a tree.


	29. Chapter 29

Opera vibrates through Castiel, twisting and turning every fiber of his being. It’s the aria “Vallon Sonore” from _Les Troyens_ and Cas is sat on Jimmy’s couch. It’s a week before Jimmy’s death and the final good memory Cas has of his twin. They’re celebrating something, though Cas can’t quite remember what. 

Jimmy is swaying to the powerful French opera as he brings two cans of grape soda to the couch. It’s grape soda rather than red wine, because Cas is on new meds and he can’t drink alcohol. 

Cas accepts his soda, fingers brushing against Jimmy’s and his brother smiles at him, all bright eyes and hopeful. There’s a pang in Cas’s heart that wasn’t there when this originally happened. Memory-dream Jimmy sits down beside Cas and it’s closer than Cas remembers, full of intentions and— 

“No,” says Cas, Jimmy’s free hand brushing along his thigh. “We stopped.” 

Jimmy’s smile deepens and it creeps Cas out. “Oh, we never stopped Cas. Don’t you see. _We never stopped._ ” 

There’s a darkness to Jimmy’s eyes that was never there and Castiel’s heart is thumping hard inside his chest. The memory, dream, or whatever, is all wrong. Jimmy’s hand moves further up Castiel’s thigh. 

Cas is frozen where he is. “Nonononononono…” 

His twin’s hand lightly brushes against Castiel’s crotch. “Oh, but yes.” 

And this is clearly not Jimmy, not his beloved twin. This is some monster reflecting the very worst of Castiel’s memories of himself and the loathing that always simmers below the surface. The foulness that he’s fought against for so long, but has been losing to since Dean left. Jimmy is his mirror and he’s cracked. 

Jimmy stops, but only to put their cans of soda down. Fingers brushing Castiel’s. And then Jimmy swings himself onto Castiel so he’s straddling him. There is no memory now, no dream, just a crooked and distorted nightmare. 

The opera swells and Jimmy leans down, grinding against Cas, his lips find Castiel’s neck and he bites. Castiel doesn’t have the strength to move. 

“Please,” Cas moans, fighting feelings he doesn’t want, “please stop.” 

Jimmy licks Castiel’s neck. “Why? You don’t.” Jimmy grabs at Castiel’s wrists and pulls them up, pinning Castiel. “You never stop. It’s all take, take, take. You answer to no one. They’re all just busy running around you and cleaning up your messes.” 

Cas whimpers. 

“You could have stopped, but you’re too weak to stop yourself from being nothing more than a beast rutting in heat. No control.” 

Pushing against Jimmy’s grip, Cas tries to break through, wanting the nightmare to end. Wanting to wake up. 

“Oh, now you’re resisting?” Jimmy taunts. 

“I never wanted this.” 

A dark chuckle rises through Jimmy’s chest and the aria concludes. “And neither did I.” 

Castiel crawls out of the slimy dark and gasps lungfuls of air, a scream searing through his throat, contorting his body. Snapping it this way and that. His breath is gone and he drags in another lungful and screams again, thrashing against the comforter that’s been laid over him. The half light of the lamp lit room glows across his vision, but his surroundings are an indistinct blur. 

“CAS!” Calls Dean. Voice distant and desperate. 

Another scream works its way out of Cas, like he’s a man possessed. Hands grip his wrists and he just thrashes harder. _Can’t lose control again_ , Cas thinks desperately, but he can’t scream again, he can’t get the air and he starts panicking as his body fights for breath. 

“Cas, calm down! Work with me, baby.” 

The pressure is released from his wrists and there’s a steadying hand on his chest. A weight to ground him and then feels himself being turned, the glow of the room changing as he is put in what must be the recovery position. 

Suddenly Cas is aware of a shirt slick against his back and the panicked thumping of his heart. The indistinct glow clears and Castiel is looking into Dean’s very concerned green eyes. 

“C’mon, Cas, breathe with me, please. Just breathe.” 

Dean’s voice is a lifeline and Cas clings to it. He tries to match Dean’s longer and deeper breaths. 

“That’s it, angel. You’re doing so good for me. So, so good.” 

“Dean,” Cas gasps. 

“I got you, I got you baby. You’re okay. You’re alright. I’m here.” Dean rubs soothing circles into Cas’s back as he holds him close. 

Cas shudders and trembles. “It was Jimmy, I was dreaming about Jimmy, but it, it was all wrong— one of my last good memories of my brother, and…” Cas snuggles deeper into Dean, his cheek hot and wet where it soaks through the thin fabric on his chest. 

“It’s alright, Cas. It wasn’t real. I get it, I do. But it really was just a dream.” 

Cas’s voice comes out tinged with bitterness, close and muffled to Dean’s chest, “Maybe. But how I’ve been acting since you left has been a nightmare. Dean, I’ve been— consumed. By memories. Of my uncle Luke. Of Jimmy. As the days passed, I pushed things further and further with Meg, and then with everyone else. I’ve been a terrible human being. My pain is not an excuse for others to suffer.” 

Taking a deep breath, Dean rubs his cheek on top of Cas’s hair. “You’re right, it’s not… but all we can do is work on it and try to learn from our mistakes. That’s all anyone can do.” 

Cas’s breathing slowly evens out in the dark, hot and close on Dean’s chest and neck. _Baby what am I going to do with you? I better call Meg…_

***

It’s Saturday morning and Dean is tapping his fingers on the counter while he waits for coffee to brew. He’s barely half awake but he feels guilty for putting this off as long as he has. When he finally has a cup of joe half-drank, he can’t ignore the anxiety twisting in his gut any longer. He picks up the phone. 

Meg answers after six rings, just when he’s thinking it’ll go to voicemail. “Hey. Dean? I’m barely awake. What’s got your shorts on fire?” 

“Umm… Nothing. Really. I just— is this a good time to talk?” Dean fidgets, tapping his foot, jogging his knee as he struggles not to tighten his grip around the mug and send coffee everywhere. 

“If it wasn’t, I wouldna’ answered. So what’s this about?” 

Dean squares his shoulders. “We got some unfinished business, you and me.” 

“That’s a strange way to put it.” 

Chewing on his lip, Dean frowns. “I gotta know. How much of it was you, and how much was Cas? How long was it going on? I can’t ask Cas about it, he…” words won’t come. 

After a few moments of silence, Meg sighs. “What? Or should I let a stroll down memory lane fill in the blanks?” 

“I… I guess. He’ll… it’s like he’s not in there, but if I leave his side, he won’t stop crying. These awful, completely silent tears, until he gasps for air like he’s being torn apart by wild horses or something.” With a wince, Dean takes a sip of coffee. 

“He never…” the silence from Meg is loaded. “Comes on uh, too strong?” 

“Yeah, sometimes. But I learned a long time ago to not let him go all wrath of God unless he’s been having a good day. Any other time…” 

“Oh.” 

Dean finishes his coffee and puts the mug down with a decisive clink. “So?” 

“You wanna do this over the phone? I don’t think we should.” 

“Okay. If you really think looking me in the eye for this is gonna be easier on you.” 

Meg scoffs. “Since when is anything about you ever easy? Time and place?” 

“Hour from now? Out by the quarry?” 

“What the hell Dean? Did you suddenly get confused and think we’re off to meet the greasers for a rumble?” 

“Shut up, Meg. You in?” 

“Yeah, fine. Let’s get this over with.” The line goes dead. 

Slumping forward in his seat, Dean sighs, phone dangling from his hands. Scrubs a hand down his jaw and does a long slow blink, squeezing his eyes shut with force. 

***

It’s grey again, an unusual overcast day that makes the sky and rocky slopes blend together in a gray tomb. Wisps of ethereal fog twine around the rocks like escaping steam. 

Dean and Meg lean back on the hoods of their respective cars, leather jackets done up tightly, jeans gently flapping at the bottoms in the light wind. 

“So.” 

“So.” 

Dean chuckles nervously. 

“You first, tiger,” Meg shoots at him, arms folded while the breeze teases her long brown locks. 

Taking a steadying breath, Dean begins: “When did it start?” 

“I don’t know. The moment I saw you again?” 

Dean winces. “Not what I meant. C’mon Meg, throw me a bone.” 

The wind nearly carries off Meg’s low reply, “But it was from then. I felt that old tug to protect and care for Clarence from the moment I laid eyes on him. And you…” Uncharacteristically, Meg lowers her head. “When I saw you, half-hard cock visible with you going commando, hair a mess, glowing with that ‘post-fucked’ look… couldn’t help saying something. It was so obvious, just how you belong to each-other…” 

Holding his breath, Dean jams his hands further in his coat pockets, leaning closer to Meg, straining to hear. 

Meg looks up then. “It was also obvious just how precarious things were. He felt such a need to lay a claim on you knowing time was so short… knowing he was about to see me again. And you let him.” Meg scoffs, hunching her shoulders. “Not exactly a sign of a healthy, secure relationship… and the way you both looked at me. Well, it was confusing. But that was okay. I had a job to do.” 

“One you could’ve walked away from at any time,” Dean digs. 

“Oh, like you can? Or like you want to?” Meg sneers. 

“Shut up. It’s… it’s not like that.” 

“Yeah, it’s so not like that you went away for two months to the other side of the world. Knowing him. Knowing what Cas was like better than anyone!” 

“I came back! A whole month early!” 

“After being so fucking stupid that you had to be watched like a hawk and couldn’t give him any time at all anymore! I don’t buy it was just an insult… what the hell really caused you to punch that guy, Dean?” 

“Don’t pretend like you know me. What we had was a long time ago.” 

Meg grabs Dean by the elbow and glares up at him. “You cheated on him, didn’t you? With that guy whose lights you knocked out?” 

“Let go of me,” Dean grinds out. 

“Didn’t you? Indulged in that Asian fetish I remember you got?” 

Dean tries to shake his arm out of Meg’s grasp. 

“And all the while, Cas was fucking falling to pieces. Just like you knew he would.” 

“I got drunk and maybe someone kissed me and I kissed back and maybe it went a bit farther than that before I realized what I was doing, okay? Happy?” Dean rips his arm out of Meg’s grip and whirls on her, glaring down. 

“No. You sucker-punched some poor guy because you were drunk and not wearing a wedding band, isn’t that right?” 

“Kita caught me… you know. With Cas.” Ears burning with embarrassment, Dean stares down the rocks at his feet. “He said if I didn’t go to the club with him, he’d out me.” 

“Oh yeah? And what else did this guy do to you, Dean?” 

“That was as far as it went.” Dean’s look is level and unflinching. 

“Oh yeah? Then why don’t I believe you?” 

“Maybe ‘cause you’re a home-wrecking _bitch?_ ” 

Meg barks a laugh. “Sure. Let’s just ignore that I never made a _single_ move on your little angel.” Her lips twist in a dry, brittle smile. 

“You… you’re lying. You must’ve done something. Must’ve led him on.” Dean grabs Meg by the front of her jacket, his shock and empathy from the day before having seemingly been driven completely from him. 

“I didn’t do fucking _nothing_. You did it all for me.” 

“What kind of fucking horse-shit—” 

A weight comes to rest on Dean’s crotch. It’s Meg’s hand, grasping what he abruptly realizes is the half of an erection he’s got. 

“I knew it. Cas has a thing for violent men. You’re just as much an animal as he is, deep down.” 

“What—” 

“Gonna make it two for two? Get even?” 

“Shut up, you _whore_.” Dean spins Meg around and pushes her onto the hood of the Impala, grabbing both of her wrists in one hand. 

“Make me. I fucking dare you.” 

“Yeah? Maybe I frigging will,” Dean growls, and a delighted shiver goes all through Meg as she hears the sound of his belt being unbuckled. There’s a _thwap_ as Dean hits the car beside her head, clearly trying to intimidate, and Meg laughs. 

“Give it your best shot, _little boy_ ,” she sneers, cheek to the warm hood, engine ticking under her jaw. Though she’s prepared, Meg still flinches when the belt blow lands on the back of her thigh. Fully clothed, it barely feels like anything.  
“Is that all you’ve got? Pathetic!” She spits on the car, knowing it’s bound to piss Dean off even further. 

With a roar, Dean hits her again, then again and again; the blows hit her ass and thighs. Meg is getting well, a little tingly actually. 

“Oh, so you _do_ know how to use that thing. How nice for you.” 

Dean hauls her off the Impala, and rubs the looped fabric against her cheek, green eyes dark like the moss growing on the rocks around them. “Listen, you—” 

“No.” Meg says simply, smirking. “Either pony up or admit you’re too small-time for this rodeo, cowboy.” 

Dean shakes, squeezing his eyes shut. “No. _No. I will not lose Cas to you._ ” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Meg struggles, just a little, pushing her breasts up nearer Dean’s face. 

Opening his eyes, a steely expression settles over Dean’s features, the resolve that must’ve gotten him through many of John Winchester’s drunken episodes and years of being the partner to someone who’s mentally ill. 

“It’s about time I shut you up.” Dean winds the belt around Meg’s neck and pulls down until she’s on her knees in the gravel.  
“Put that filthy, lying, whore mouth to better use.” Dean tightens the belt. “Take out my cock.” 

Trembling, Meg undoes the top button, noting how Dean is straining against his jeans. _Yeah, I wasn’t remembering wrong. He’s hung like a horse_. With a mental smirk, she thinks: _giddyup_. 

He’s still, calm… but with an undercurrent like he could explode into a flurry of violence at any time. Meg is really, unbelievably turned on by this state of affairs. Slowly, she takes out his hard dick, the whisper of fabric undercutting her words. “What do you think is going to happen here, Dean? I could bite it off before you could choke me out. That a game of chicken you really want to play?” 

“Shut-up,” Dean growls. “Suck my dick.” Dean pulls Meg forward by the belt and the head of his penis rubs up against her cheek, leaving a small smear behind; it turns colder instantly, making her very aware of the leak. 

The belt tightens and tightens, and the rocks and sky are melding into a uniform shade of grey before Meg relents and takes the luscious thick head of Dean’s cock into her mouth. Her mouth waters at it. 

“Thatta’ girl. Good. Right where you belong. Take it.” With one hand on the back of Meg’s head and the other controlling her by the belt, he forces her down deeper, his cock pushing down into her windpipe, making her gag and her eyes water. 

“Good.” Dean rocks in and out a couple of times, using her, causing Meg to cough up and spit to run out of her nose as she fights her gag reflex.  
_I’m not going to throw up. Not gonna give him the satisfaction._

“You gonna be a good girl now? You gonna stop telling me lies about the person I love?” Dean hauls her off, relenting for a moment. 

“Never told a word of a lie, _you fucking idiot_.” Meg spits and gasps for air. 

“That’s how you’re going to play it? Fine. Strip.” 

“No.” 

“Take off your damn pants, Meg.” 

“Fine.” 

Keeping a wary eye on her, Dean keeps the belt cinched around Meg’s neck like a collar while she undoes her pants and pushes them down with unsteady hands. 

“You want me to be even with Cas? You’re gonna insist all he did was take? Guess what that means. Climb in the back.” 

“No.” The mist is chilly on Meg’s bared legs and exposed, throbbing and swollen sex. 

“That is just your favourite word today, isn’t it, you goddamn liar?” Dean controls Meg by the belt, leading her to the back door before he opens it and pushes her in. 

Meg’s bare ass hits the seat, and boy must Dean be pissed to not even be thinking about that right now. She awards herself another point on the mental scorecard. _Masters: 3, Winchester: 0_. The leather creaks as she settles in, and looks up at Dean, whose eyes are flat with large blown pupils eating up most of the green in the gloom around them. It smells like him in here; coconut, leather, spice, greasy food. _I never thought I’d sit in Dean’s precious baby again. Let alone with my pussy dripping all over the seat._

“Condom?” 

Meg is silent. 

“I can do this with or without. I don’t give a single fucking _damn_ what happens to you right now. So…?” 

Wordlessly, Meg reaches into the inside pocket of her leather jacket, eyes locked with Dean’s. 

“Good. Put it on me.” 

Meg rips the packet open and then unrolls it slowly. It’s just a normal size condom so there’s over an inch of exposed length. She feels dizzy with the prospect of feeling it inside of her. 

“Lick my shaft and tongue my balls.” 

Meg does so, and feels Dean’s hand card through her hair. “Good. That’s a nice, obedient cockslut. You want it? You want my cock in you?” 

Hair standing on end, Meg is racked all over by shudders. 

“Say it.” Dean grasps her chin, and licks a stripe against her slightly parted lips. Meg is panting. 

“Say you want my cock.” 

“I…” Meg looks away, “I want your cock.” 

Fingers are abruptly pressing into her, two at once, and Dean’s thumb rubs wetness into her clit. 

“Look at me. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? So look at me.” 

Meeting Dean’s calm stare, Meg says clearly, “I want your cock, Dean.” 

“Tell me to fuck you.” 

“Fuck me.” 

Dean growls and pushes Meg down, hands gripping her hips hard as he positions himself. “Put my cock in you.” 

Meg complies, and Dean shoves forward, arching his back over her, jaw falling slack. With a groan, Meg spreads her legs, trying to make as much space as possible as the thick heat of him spears her open. “Yes,” she hisses. 

“This is what you wanted. What you wanted all along.” 

Shuddering, Meg hisses “Yes,” again. 

“Then take it.” Dean’s hands are in a grip that leaves bruises behind as he pounds Meg into the back bench seat of the Impala, jaw clenched as he stares down at her. 

Gasping, Meg sweats onto the leather, skin rubbing on it with each thrust, causing it to squeak. The car is actually rocking underneath her, as she pushes back up to meet Dean’s movements. Clawing futilely at the leather jacket Dean is still wearing (he is still fully clothed, in fact, bare where his genitals are exposed) Meg wishes she could mark him up, leave something for Cas to see. 

“Dean, Dean, I want—” 

Dean breaks the intense eye-lock they’ve got going and shakily mutters, “You fucking greedy slut. Aren’t you already getting everything you wanted?” 

“Please,” Meg whispers, scrabbling at his shirt’s hem. “At least this.” 

“No.” He pushes Meg’s knee back, putting her leg up over his shoulder; plows her deeper and Meg swears as she feels denim and zipper scrape up against her most sensitive area. 

“Dean,” Meg whimpers, hands sliding up under his shirt to scratch and mark. She wants to see him, all of him, the patterns her nails are tracing into his skin. 

“Always. Hated you. For getting to him first,” Dean pants, grinding into her. 

“Always hated you. For getting to keep him. For being worthy,” Meg mutters, trying to raise her head enough to nibble at the collarbone peeking out as Dean’s shirt hangs down. “I never had a chance.” Grabbing the front of Dean’s shirt, Meg puts up with the uncomfortable stretch of her leg as she pulls Dean down. “Soft, so soft…” Dean spits out, craning his neck. “Nothing to remind him of his asshole uncle or his sainted brother. No ghosts crowding his head when he kissed you.” Dean squeezes his eyes shut, thrusts going shallower and faster. 

Whining, Meg squirms beneath him, gets a hand under, starts rubbing her clit. “He only had eyes for you. I don’t matter. Never have.” 

“Yeah. Right. That’s why you were the one to get him to go outside again after all this damn time.” 

Meg purposefully flexes her kegels, and smirks as she she hears Dean swear and feels him throb. 

“What is it with you?” Dean growls. “Why do you drive us both completely fucking insane?” 

“I dunno, Dean-o. Must be my feminine wiles.” Meg gasps, getting close to orgasm. “Now shut up and fuck me with that big dick.” 

“I hate you! You filthy fucking whore!” Dean bends Meg nearly in half, drives into her over and over again, rocking the Impala hard on its wheels, fingers bruising her hips, making incoherent guttural sounds. 

When her orgasm takes her careening off the cliff into blackness, Meg convulses like she’s having a seizure, spine arching again and again with each successive wave of dark pleasure. Dimly, she’s aware of Dean throbbing within her, of his forehead pressed to hers while he swears in her face, curses ghosting across her cheek and neck. 

Once the both of them have stilled completely aside from laboured breathing, Meg is aware of dampness on her cheeks. Dean slowly climbs off of her and swipes at his face with the back of his hand, trembling. Meg lies there, dazed. _Is he crying, or am I?_

Meg sits up and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Dean. I’m not anything special. It’s not worth getting your panties in a twist.” 

“That’s the hell of it,” Dean mutters brokenly, “you are. You looked after Cas despite what happened, you got him outside again, even on top of the crap he was dealing with, with me. And look at how I’ve just fucking treated you. There’s no frigging end.” 

“Easy come, easy go. I got my rocks off. It’s fine. And now you and Cas are even Stevens.” 

Dean manages to look at her then, “This was all for him, all of it? Did you even want me?” 

“I said I did. You made real sure I was clear on that.” 

Peering at her intently, Dean cradles Meg’s face and slowly closes the gap between them. That beautiful mouth is on hers, then, a slow soft push of plush lips that taste of salt. Meg presses back, tilting her head a little to align better, and the kiss that passes between them is surprisingly tender. 

Once it’s over, a look of wordless understanding passes between them. 

“You deserve better, Meg.” 

Tears streak her cheeks. “I know.” 

Dean looks away and rolls the condom off of himself, knotting it and putting it back in its foil packet. Meg silently slides out of the car from the other door, grabs her pants up from the ground, and puts them back on. 

The fog swallows her car as she drives off; disappearing from sight long before the engine and slide of gravel on tires can no longer be heard. Dean stares into unrelieved gray nothingness.


	30. Chapter 30

Water is splashing against the tiles in the en suite, the sound clear in the bedroom. Castiel shifts the comforters piled on top of him, sweat slicked hair sticking to his forehead. He’s not sure how long he’s been in bed. His stomach has the dull ache of long ignored hunger, but his bladder is demanding that he use the can. 

Gingerly climbing out of his bed, his feet don’t quite feel his own, and his head feels light and filled with air. Cas is only wearing a pair of sweats— _and is the elastic going on these?_ —that he has to keep hiking up around his hips. Dimly, he’s aware of his reflection in a mirror, but he doesn’t take in any of the information there. 

Feet operating on autopilot, Cas floats into the steamy bathroom and heads for the toilet. He says nothing as he lifts up the lid and the seat and finally handles one item of business.  
The shower stops while Cas pisses, but he doesn’t tilt his head to look at who he assumes to be Dean. He remembers that much: that Dean is home now. For the moment Castiel’s brain is refusing to let him dwell on anything else bar this information and dealing with his biological needs. 

Ignoring Dean, Cas flushes and then washes his hands. There’s movement out of the corner of his eye, and the sound of feet softly thudding onto a floor mat. 

“Cas?” 

Turning the faucet off, Cas reaches over and dries his hands on a small towel. Pulling his sweats up again, Cas turns and faces Dean. 

“Yes?” Cas tilts his head and then regrets it as a stronger wave of lightheadedness grips him. One moment he’s swaying on his feet and then Cas feels damp strong arms around him. 

“Hey, how about I get you back into bed and bring you some oatmeal?” Dean’s arms feel safe and whole. For a moment Cas realizes that he’d not quite accepted that Dean is finally home. That he is returned. 

Cas rests his face against Dean’s still wet chest. “Okay.” _He’s here. Here. With me._

Dean starts leading Cas back to the bedroom with one arm on Cas and one hand on his own towel around his waist. Reaching the bed, Dean gets Cas to scoot back in so he’s sitting up by the headboard. If Dean looks at Castiel’s chest with a concerned gaze, Cas doesn’t notice it. 

His head light as a feather, Cas lazily watches Dean towel himself off and get dressed. Cas is aware that he’s not remembering something, but he isn’t sure what. He feels drained and unsure, the room feeling more and more distant with each piece of clothing that Dean pulls on. It’s very hard for Cas to focus and his stomach feels so small and empty. A thought from much earlier creeps back into Castiel’s awareness. 

“Where were you… earlier?” Cas asks, voice a dry croak. 

“Had to go out.” Dean’s dressed now. “I’ll put honey in your oatmeal… be back in a few.” 

Dean breezes out of the bedroom before Cas has a chance to reply. Leaning against the headboard, Cas tries flexing his fingers to check that they’re still a part of him. He’s unsure of the passage of time. The smell of oatmeal drifts up into the bedroom at some point and Castiel’s stomach gives a small growl. 

Vision floating from the comforters at the end of the bed to the laundry hamper set against one wall, Cas realizes the hamper has fallen over. This one small thing out of place pokes through Castiel’s haze and he slides out of bed and slowly pads over to it. It feels impossible to bend over, so he goes down on his knees, puts the hamper upright and begins to pick the items that fell out of it. 

Hands moving slowly, Cas puts the garments back, but he stops when he reaches a pair of Dean’s jeans. Something doesn’t look quite right around the fly and zipper. He stares at the stains there, brain not quite doing the math. 

Dean finds Cas kneeling on the floor, gaze still fixed on the stain. Putting the tray of oatmeal down on the bed, Dean nervously walks over to Cas and bends down beside him. 

“Brought your oatmeal. C’mon.” Dean reaches down and gently stuffs the jeans in the hamper. 

Cas doesn’t say anything, but he feels like he’s missing something. Instead he allows Dean to help him up onto his feet and walk his exhausted body back over to the bed. He’s positioned back by the headboard, a t-shirt on and Dean brings over the tray with its honeyed oatmeal and a glass of orange juice. 

Looking down at the oatmeal, Cas doesn’t do anything he just stares at it. He’s now no longer sure why he was looking at that pair of jeans and he’s beginning to think falling back to sleep would be nicer than eating. A spoon is thrust into Castiel’s hand and Dean hovers beside him. 

“Staring’s not eating. Cas, I’m pretty sure you haven’t forgotten how to use the spoon.” 

Shifting his gaze up, Cas catches Dean’s concerned expression. 

“C’mon dude, don’t make me go all airplane on you.” 

The hint of babying gets through to Cas, he shifts forward and he lifts his hand and puts the spoon into the bowl. His hand shakes as he brings the spoon to his mouth and finally takes his first bite of food in almost two days. The soft mush is sweet and warm. Swallowing, Cas goes for a second and then a third, the bites of oatmeal slowly reviving him. After a fifth, he carefully sips some OJ before returning to his food. 

Dean’s hand lands on Castiel’s curved back and rubs soothing circles. “You’re doing good.” 

Finishing his last spoonful, Cas lets the spoon clatter into the bowl. He picks up his glass of OJ and finishes that too. He feels more human that’s for sure and with something inside him, Cas begins to reflect back over the last couple of days and winces. It’s not something he wants to talk about. 

Picking up the tray, Dean leans in and kisses Cas’s forehead. “Awesome. I’ll be back in a sec, okay?” 

Cas nods, but doesn’t say anything. Eyes returning to look at the hamper again once Dean is out of the room. This time he gets out of the bed on steady feet. Pulling the jeans back out of the hamper, there’s no mistaking the kind of stain that’s on them. 

The stairs creak outside the bedroom and Dean walks in, seeing Cas looking at his jeans. 

“You and Meg,” Cas states, eyes fixed on the jeans. 

“Look, I can—” 

Dean doesn’t get a chance to reply, because Cas has thrown the jeans down, and boy does he seem to have some of his old self back. He’s on Dean, arms wrapping around him and squeezing, hands snaking up his neck. Cas kisses Dean roughly and breathes him in, as if the shower hadn’t removed all of the time he clearly spent away from Cas’s side. In his arms, Dean’s only half struggling, seemingly thinking he deserves this, breathing fast. Moaning. 

Ending the kiss, Cas goes for Dean’s neck and bites down. Sucking and biting, and the tang of iron sweeps over his tongue, mixing with oatmeal and OJ. Cas would leave a mark alright. Some part of him satisfied with what he’s done and Cas stops biting, choosing to lick the wound on Dean’s neck and hold him close. 

Dean is silent, trembling, hands clutching Cas’s shirt as he leans into him. “Cas… I… I think you need to get the bactine, buddy.” 

Sight focusing on Dean, Cas takes in the side of Dean’s neck. “Sorry, did I hurt you?” 

“It’s, it’s fine. Just you know. Think I’m probably bleeding.” 

Cas wills his arms to unwind from around Dean, but he can’t let go. “I’m sorry, but, um, my limbs don’t wish to cooperate.” 

“It’s okay.” Dean scoops Cas up like a child, settling him around koala-style as he wades to the bathroom. He plunks Cas on the counter and rifles through the medicine cabinet for the antiseptic and some cotton balls. Handing the supplies to Cas, he waits patiently, resting his hands on Cas’s shoulders. 

Taking Dean in, really looking at those green eyes of his and those freckles he’s missed, Cas can’t help leaning in and sweetly kissing Dean on his lips. Just light and quick, before leaning back and applying the antiseptic to the mark he’s made. He leaves it on Dean’s skin for a few moments, and then gently dabs it away. 

“You’re… here… with me.” Cas says out loud, still finding himself surprised by this fact. 

“Yeah. Where else would I be?” Dean tracks the cotton ball, the red dying it as Cas throws it in the trash. 

“I think… I dreamed… So many times that you wouldn’t be coming home.” Cas leans in and kisses Dean again, partially to help reassure himself that Dean is here, right now, partially because he’s missed kissing Dean. He pulls back and looks at Dean, and Cas tries to master the sorrow he knows is trying to bleed through onto his face. 

“I think sometimes, I did, too. That I’d come back and there’d be no home to go to. But,” the smile on Dean’s face is mostly forced, “we’re both here now? Mostly in one piece, right?” 

A small nod works its way out of Cas and he sucks in a breath. “I… I am in so many pieces… I want to be whole. But everything that’s happened… It feels so impossible.” Cas swallows hard. “Dean, I want help.” 

“Okay, angel. What would you like to do?” Dean grabs Cas’s hand, strokes his thumb over it reassuringly. “Whatever you need.” 

“I want to keep going outside… but… but I wanna get a grip on… things.” Cas can’t quite bring himself to say “stop all this trying to fuck everything that moves”. He sees a flash of Meg jammed against the kitchen counter and he blinks fast to stop the tears that are forming. 

“Shhh. Hey now, we’ll get there.” Dean kisses the top of Cas’s head, right over a cowlick, and gives his hand a squeeze. “Do you wanna tell me what you meant by getting a grip on things?” 

Cas takes a deep breath. And then another. He doesn’t want to say it, because it helps make it more real. 

“I…” Cas takes another breath. “I want to… to not… I not only hurt… Meg… I hurt Sam and Gabe too. I want to stop hurting people. Dean. Please.” 

“We’ll just take it one step at a time. It’ll be okay, baby.” Dean’s eyes burn with unshed tears as a million self-recriminations flood half-formed inside his head. Scooping Cas up into a hug, his hands go lower until they’re under his ass, settling him in for another carry. “What do you say we go back to bed, huh?” 

“Okay. Yes.” Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s neck and breathes Dean in. All freshly showered and clean. So clean. _Not like me_ , Cas thinks, because even though he knows Dean got even, it was impossible Dean had done anything Meg hadn’t wanted. To Cas, the man he loves could never be tainted. Would never be impure like Cas. He shakes his head a little. _No, don’t… don’t think like that,_ he tells himself. And he tries. He fails. He shakes as Dean settles them both back into bed, drawing the covers back around them both. Breathes slowly through his nose. 

“Dean—please. I need skin—” 

“Shh, easy, easy. Settle. I got you. It’s okay.” Dean pushes the covers back, gives himself a little space, and draws Cas’s t-shirt up over his head. He’s got them both stripped down in a matter of moments, and his eyes flash as he looks up at Cas from his feet. The look in his eyes is slightly predatory. Kissing his way up his legs, sliding a possessive hand in the wake of his mouth, Dean stops to nuzzle at Cas’s thigh. 

“Dean—come up here. Please. Need to feel you.” 

“Wanna make you feel good, Cas. Been so long since I had your taste, baby boy.” 

Cas slides his fingers into Dean’s still damp hair, and his breath hitches on a sigh. “I need you close. Get up here.” He tugs on the short hair, and after a kiss dropped on his soft penis, Dean follows the direction. 

With a sigh, Dean settles in, wrapping around Cas, pushing them together from cheek to ankle. “I love you. I missed you so friggin’ much.” 

“Tell me you didn’t kiss her.” 

“I didn’t.” _During_ , Dean mentally amends. 

“Did you like it?” 

“I don’t—I don’t know. It got pretty rough. But she seemed into it. I’m not… I’m not really...down... with that part of myself and Meg just made me _so_ fucking angry…” Rubbing his lips gently on the side of Cas’s neck, Dean breathes deep, tickling the sensitive skin. 

Cas shivers and shifts uncomfortably. He’s getting hard, picturing the two of them together. Dean had undoubtedly been nearly fully clothed. “What was it like, being inside a woman again after all this time?” 

“Aww Hell, Cas. You know. I’m not—let’s not talk about this right now.” Dean is hardening against his stomach. 

“Alright.” Pressing into Dean, Cas slowly laps at the bloody marks he left on his neck. 

They don’t talk.


	31. Chapter 31

There’s a page for _Preternatural_ up on Castiel’s monitor, waiting to be edited. The house is silent around him and he dislikes the quiet. Not having someone else bustling around as he sits at his desk feels strange and its strangeness is unwelcome. The space surrounding him feels too big and empty. 

Having Meg’s company while Dean had been away had felt good in some ways, but Cas is not blind to the problems the situation created. Still, hearing her move around the house, as she cleaned or tidied, or even the sound of a magazine’s pages being turned: it was enough. 

_Why did Dean have to go back to the office so soon?_ Cas asks himself as he stares at the blue lines waiting for something to be done with them. He imagines Meg peeking at him through the door between the office and the living room, like she would often do. Imagines how she would notice him sat unmoving for so long and come into the office and check on him. 

Talk. Touch. 

Cas balls his hands into fists and rests them on his lap, legs crossed in his chair. He looks away from his monitor, anxiety building and making him grind his teeth. Bar being asleep, this was the longest he had been alone in weeks. Cas wonders at how he’s gone from being able to last half a day without human contact and now he’s craving it like an alcoholic who needs their quart of whiskey. 

Shifting out of his chair, Cas grabs his cell and pads over to the living room window and looks outside. A car rumbles past. He hasn’t stepped beyond the threshold since Dean came back. Cas has only gone outside once by himself since he mended some of the bridges between himself and the wider world. 

Turning away from the window, Cas walks through the living room and to the kitchen. He gazes through the doors out into the backyard. He thinks of playing with Bones and Kevin, Meg— he’s taken straight back to how his last transgression spiralled out of control. 

Shaking, Cas turns and strides out of the kitchen and heads upstairs. His motions are automated once he’s in the bedroom, shedding clothes and climbing under the covers. He ignores the hunger pangs he feels as lunchtime nears and buries himself under comforters, detaching himself from the world. 

***

The blue sky is expansive overhead, the faded denim blue specific to California beach. The polluted water ripples by lazily, tugging at the shore again and again; a motion mirrored by Dean’s thumb as it scrolls up and down his contact list. 

_Is Cas okay? He hasn’t been outside again. I wonder if he ate? Fuck, don’t want to disturb him if he’s working on his comic. But what if he isn’t?_ Dean remembers back to Cas’s limpet status the day before; it’d been a bit better when the sun was high overhead and ushered Cas out of bed with the rising heat. Cas had worked quietly on Preternatural with a focused determination that was kind of hot to watch. Not that he’d made a habit of it. No, he’d fucked off to his computer and played _Dead Rising for awhile instead. _But still… I guess it’d really be better if… I had someone to check on him__. Dean’s thumb hovers over the “MM” on his contacts list. 

_But I fucked that up. In every damn sense of the word. Well, I guess Cas beat me to it… still, Meg said she didn’t want to bow out. She was just as worried about him, despite everything…_ Dean comes up to the hotdog stand and mumbles his usual order, then sits on an old piece of driftwood and eats mechanically, only the occasional burst of raw onion getting through. 

_What do I freaking do? Well… I guess I could… Dammit Winchester, grow some friggin’ balls already! All she can do is say no!_

Shy, Dean takes the middle route and texts one-handed as he eats his hotdog. 

_Hi I was wondering do you still give a rat’s ass about us_

Dean erases that and starts over. 

_Hey Im worried about Cas. You don’t have to see me again. Would you be cool with just checking on him_

Dean hits send and takes a breath. 

_He hasn’t been out he’s barely been out of bed since i got back_

A text comes back a couple of minutes later, as he’s wiping his mouth. With hands that are only a little shaky, he unlocks his phone. 

_You’re so worried, why don’t you do it?_

_Breaks too short. Works on the other side of town can barely get away long enough to eat most days_

_Okay. I’ll see what I can do. My schedule’s usually pretty variable so it shouldn’t be impossible._

Clenching his fist in victory, Dean balls up the napkin. 

_Thanks Meg. You’re a life-saver._

***

Dimly aware of the bell ringing three times, Cas doesn’t move from where he is. He’s down deep and dark, buried under the covers and unlikely to come out soon. There’s no inkling of interest as to who might be at the door. 

Everyone he might care about has keys, but he can’t bring himself to crawl out of bed. Not even when his growing awareness lets him in on the front door being unlocked or the shifting floorboards downstairs. 

“Cas?” 

_Meg…_ Cas’s thoughts don’t get any further as he buries himself further under the covers, wanting and not wanting Meg to find him at the same time. Wanting and not wanting her to see the pathetic mess he’s become without her presence to buoy him through his days. 

The bedroom door creaks further open and Cas listens to Meg pad her way into the room. 

“Seriously, Cas, what are you doing under there? It’s two in the afternoon,” says Meg, but her voice isn’t harsh and is instead filled with concern. 

Cas feels the bed dip as Meg sits down beside his mound of covers. He doesn’t acknowledge her presence in any way. Then the covers are pulled back and he’s exposed to light and air. He’s only dressed in his boxers, torso bare. He blinks and finally looks up at Meg. 

“So you’re with me?” Meg is smiling and Cas doesn’t feel like he deserves that smile. 

Replying with a nod, Cas tries to not think about how close he and Meg are. How it would feel to just pull her down on top of him and lay his lips along her jaw and then take her breath away as he kisses her sweet lips. But the thoughts come and Cas turns onto his side, curling up, as he tries to hide his growing erection. _No. NO! I have to be better than this. Have to._

Meg lays a cool hand down on Castiel’s exposed shoulder and Cas whimpers, pathetically. 

“Have you had anything to eat?” 

On cue, Castiel’s stomach audibly rumbles. “N-no. I haven’t.” 

“How about you get dressed and I fix you a sandwich?” The question is simple enough on Meg’s part, but Cas can’t help thinking what that meant the last time she was fixing food for him. 

“Okay, but… I’ll wait in the living room.” 

Meg shrugs. “Fine, so long as you’re getting out of bed.” 

And there’s that impossible smile again. Like nothing happened. A smile that makes Cas think he’s got a second chance when no way in hell does he deserve one. They should talk about things, but Cas isn’t sure about doing that without Dean around. If he starts opening himself up now, he might just try to swallow Meg whole again. 

***

Meg watches Cas as he devours the tuna salad sandwich she made for him. He’s in sweats and a t-shirt, hair still all bedhead. Truthfully, she’d been relieved when Cas had said he’d wait in the living room. Stepping into the kitchen again hadn’t been bad, but she couldn’t ignore the way her body reacted, the way her heart had thumped in her chest that touch faster. 

There’s a content look on Castiel’s face as he finishes the sandwich and puts down his plate, his eyes trained on the grape soda can Meg brought in. Cas reaches for it and pulls the ring. Meg has to turn away when he starts to drink, the bob of his Adam’s apple distracting. _Despite everything… I want him? This is… Ugh. I am so fucked—_ because with his messed up hair and the way he manages to make grape soda look like it’s the whole nectar of the Gods deal… Cas still looks like a, _fuck, a slice of heaven… or is it hell?_

Castiel coughs, to get Meg’s attention and she realizes she’s been staring at him. Annoyance floods Meg, because she shouldn’t be considering anything, not after— 

“Like what you see?” Cas’s voice sounds a mixture of angry and sad. 

Meg needs to put the brakes on. “That’s not… Cas, of course you’re gorgeous. But—” 

Cas suddenly puts the can down on the coffee table and stands. “Because I don’t.” Hanging his head, he mutters at his feet. “Even now, after what I almost did, by grace of Dean, I still want to. I still want _you_.” Cas looks up, gaze cutting.  
“But not just you, oh no, anyone at all who will pay the slightest scrap of attention to me. _I am utterly pathetic_. What are you even doing here?” 

Meg licks her lips, deciding to go with the truth. “Dean asked me to check in on you. He was worried and I was too, after he told me… how you’d been these past few days. Okay?” 

“All I can think about is tasting you again, getting on my knees and doing penance…” Cas shudders, digging his nails into his thigh, hands clenched in his pants. “But I also just want to take you, break you apart until all you know is to beg and cry for me… you shouldn’t be within a hundred miles of me, Meg.” 

Closing her eyes and taking a steadying breath, Meg opens them and tries to look in Castiel’s amazing blues. “Are you going to try something, right now? Look, you don’t have to… Let yourself act like this. And Dean’s said that he’s gonna make sure you get help… And… And…” The look in Cas’s eyes backs up his point as Meg fumbles for more words. _I should just leave, I should, I should…_ But she’s a rabbit stuck in headlights again. 

“You’re right. I don’t. But it’s you, and I _want to_.” Cas looks far away, out the window at the eucalyptus tree. So softly it’s barely audible he says, “Help me.” 

Some kind of gear turns in Meg’s head. _I’ve been going about this completely wrong._ Calmly, chin held high, Meg crosses the room and wraps Cas up in her arms. Puts his head on her shoulder and hugs him close. “It’s okay, Cas. It’s okay to have feelings. You’re not a robot. What you are is the actions you chose, not what you feel or think.” 

A small bitter laugh huffs out of Cas. “But… the kitchen.” He doesn’t move away though, he seems content to allow himself to be hugged. He’s trembling a little. 

Stroking a soothing hand down his back, Meg gives a little smile into his temple. “Yeah, not gonna lie. That wasn’t rad. But nothing actually happened. You didn’t hurt me, in the end, pun not intended.” 

“I don’t deserve you. Or… or Dean.” 

“Well, you’ve got us, for what it’s worth. I gotta go see a client, soon, but what say we get you settled in, huh? What would you like to do today?” 

“I really need to work on my comic… but would it be alright, if…. if we sat on the couch for awhile?” 

Meg’s heart, which had been slowing down, speeds up again. _No, no. You got this._ “Sure.” Meg sits down on the end, then tugs Cas down and arranges him so his head is in her lap. She cards her fingers through his hair, and slowly strokes. Cas settles around her, relaxing, one arm and one foot dangling off of the couch. 

“I’ve changed,” Cas says after several minutes of silence. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I almost… almost wanted to go outside earlier.” Cas looks towards the silent TV set. “And almost did… it wasn’t quite fear that held me back. Not like before. I think if I hadn’t been so… stressed, I would have sat out on the lawn.” 

Cas turns his gaze towards Meg. “You… have helped. Me. Just thought you should… know. So thanks.” 

“For what it’s worth, you’re welcome.” 

The words ping uncomfortably in Cas’s ears. _I don’t understand why she bothers. How she seems to feel affection for me._ The discomfort leads him to wanting to act out again, to regain control of the situation, shape it into something he understands. But her hand just feels so good, so soothing… 

“Mmm, you getting dozy down there?” 

Cas sighs. “Maybe a little.” “Well, I gotta shift you. It’s time to go. We should do this again sometime.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“That was off the clock, Cas. And your not-husband seems to approve. I don’t mind being your teddy bear for awhile.” 

“I don’t know what to say to that. I’m sorry I’ve only repaid your kindness with awful rude behaviour.” 

“Well, awful and rude is what comes to me naturally, Clarence. Just so happens I got a softspot for those in worse shape than me. Especially when they come in such cute packaging.” 

Cas hear the smirk in her voice and he relaxes a little more; the teasing at least, is familiar. Sitting up, he allows Meg to scoot off the couch. Rather than just stay where he is, he follows Meg—at a polite distance—and sees her to the door. 

“Thanks for the sandwich.” Cas is standing in the front doorway, Meg’s already outside. 

“You’re welcome. Just make sure you clean the dishes.” Meg smiles at him and then wanders off in the direction of her car. 

Cas waves. And thinks about doing the dishes. Doing some chores. _Dean’s been too busy with me. I should help a little. Perhaps._ It’s something to do and Cas doesn’t feel like going back to Preternatural just yet. 

Closing the front door, Cas heads to the kitchen first, grabbing his plate along the way. Determined. A mental list of things he could do filling his head with each step. _Missouri said before, cleaning can be therapeutic_ , Cas rationalizes as he heads to the sink to handle the dishes. _It’s just cleaning_. Cas puts his plate down and turns to the bluetooth speaker Dean has in there. _I could put on some music. Yes._ Cas finds his cell and puts it by the speaker. Queuing up the album _In the Court of the Crimson King_ by King Crimson—because he hadn’t listened to it yet and Dean had said he really should in a time a million years ago—Cas sets to work. _Dean will... Dean will like that he has no chores._

Filling the sink with warm soapy water, Cas is hit by the first wave of scratched out vocals on the album and feels his energy rocket. If he wasn’t so set on the tasks he’s piling into his head and the idea that Dean will be happy that Cas has been useful, Cas would recognize the edge of mania curling through what he’s doing. 

Instead he doesn’t realize he’s being just a touch too heavy handed with the few dishes there are. Not enough to break them. And acts surprised when he realizes he’s managed to slosh water onto the floor. He mops it up while the sink drains and then punches up the volume on the speakers. King Crimson follows upstairs and to the laundry hamper and back down into the laundry room. He puts the washer on and closes the door to the laundry room, greeted by a softer sound. 

Clouds stalk him, conjured by the notes filling the house, as he heads into the living room and tidies and dusts. He feels like he’s going to float away as a flute fills the air. Cas is a man of extremes, Dean would easily tell you this, but Cas isn’t always good at recognizing when his mood is dramatically shifting direction. Doesn’t always see when one single stimulus is driving him. 

Pausing the music, Cas takes his cell up to the master bedroom and hooks it up to a speaker in there. Pressing play, Cas begins to strip the bed and bundles the sheets outside the bedroom door before picking out fresh bedding and covering the bed. Despite the mundaneness of what he’s doing, Cas feels a sense of pride, because he feels like he’s being useful. _I’m not helpless_ , Cas reassures himself. _I can be useful._

Bed made, Cas heads into the en suite and puts bleach down the toilet. He spreads some bathroom spray over the bath and shower and then rinses it off. Returning to the bedroom, a bass guitar swells alongside strings and cymbals crash. 

“The dance of the puppets. The rusted chains of prison moons. Are shattered by the sun. I walk a road, horizons change. The tournament's begun…” sings the lead vocalist. 

Cas turns to Dean’s closet. And he has no idea why he’s stepping up to it and opening its door. No clue why he’s feeling around on the top shelf and letting his hand close around the latched wooden case there. The vague idea of being helpful to Dean is chasing around the inside of his head. But he can’t think objectively about what he’s doing. 

Pulling the case down, Cas carries it over to the bed and sits down with it on his lap. He opens the latch and pulls up the lid to stare down upon the ivory handled Colt M1911A1. Beside the handgun is a box filled with cloths, gun oil and more for maintaining the weapon. 

Cas swallows, long fingers stroking the gun’s gleaming metal. He sits there for some time, staring at the gun, hand just falling short of caressing the weapon beneath it. 

“The gardener plants an evergreen. Whilst trampling on a flower. I chase the wind of a prison ship. To taste the sweet and sour,” blasts out of the speakers. 

_To taste the sweet and sour_ , Cas repeats in his head, fingers continuing to caress the gun’s warming metal as he reaches for its maintenance box. Cas can smell gun oil and he licks his lips. 

“To taste the sweet and sour…” Cas parrots. The song continues to play, having moved on to another verse. Cas pulls the Colt from its bed. 

It should be ugly. It’s an instrument of death. It’s hard lines, true, but also graceful, economical curves… the ivory stock of the handle fascinates Castiel. He slowly strokes his thumb along it, feels the difference in texture between the ivory and the nickel plating. Without a thought to what he’s doing, he brings the gun to his lips and traces the carvings on it, feeling the scratches with his tongue. 

_If Dean were here…_ but he isn’t. 

Inhaling deeply, Cas chases the smell of gunsmoke. There is the barest trace from when Dean last took it out for target practice, months ago. Cas rubs his thumb along the frame, his cock standing at attention as the memory of when a gun was held to his head nearly a year ago washes over him with the burnt smell. He shuts his eyes as the bitter taste of gun oil teases his tongue while he licks up around the trigger guard. 

Opening his eyes, Cas stares at the slide, numb, and unlocks it. Picking up the gun oil with shaking hands, he lets a few drops drip down around the rails before putting it back in place, watches it seep out around the bushing. Teasing the hole with his tongue, he traces the sharp edges of it and pulls down his sweatpants, freeing his flushed sex to the cool air. 

When Cas takes himself in hand, it sends a jolt all through his body, and fine tremors rack him. It’s not enough. Jacking himself with a near painfully tight grip, he arches, seeking, blind to everything but the heaviness in his gut, the tightening as all of his nerves strain towards the white hot moment of orgasm. But he can’t finish, it’s just out of reach.  
Castiel loads the magazine into the receiver, his index finger skirts the underside of the trigger. 

He’s just settling the barrel back into place between his lips when Dean walks in. 

“Cas! Whoa… hey… easy now…” 

But Cas can’t stop. He looks up, dazed, in a fugue, at Dean’s wide eyes, dilated pupils swallowing the green whole, at his full lips, pouted and slightly open, at his tongue flicking out to smooth the way for whatever he’s about to say and it’s enough. He comes hard, flashes of lightning dancing across the backs of his eyelids as he shakes, moans, and arches, convulsing. His grip on the butt of the gun is seized, stone, hand cramping as he strokes, long strips of ejaculate painting his hand, his stomach, the gun, and Dean’s shocked face. 

“Cas! For Christ’s sake, Cas! Put it down! Put it the fuck down! Take… take it out of your mouth, please… please buddy, take the gun out of your mouth…” 

Panting, lips torn from the forward sight, Cas obeys. With a gasp, it slides free. 

“Can you… can you slide the magazine out for me, baby? Please?” 

After a slow nod, Castiel does so, and puts the gun back on top of its box. “Dean...I-I wanted to be useful… I got… carried away.” With a shaky inhale, he squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t look at Dean’s face anymore. “I’m sorry. I can… I can get you a— a cloth for your…” Cas vaguely waves around his own face, and the bedroom just feels like an enclosed box, a coffin, air too hot and too close. _Worms. Tunneling in my brain… my head I… full of holes… mulch. Dead leaves. Rotten things. Crawling. Why am I alive?_

There’s a second where Dean doesn’t move to do the obvious thing and get the gun away from Cas and then he’s shifting fast, moving the items further away from Cas. He doesn’t care about the mess, can’t care about it. Getting down and kneeling between Cas’s legs, Dean wraps his arms around Cas and holds him tight. 

“Dean, we’re—” 

“Doesn’t matter. Fuck.” Dean buries his face in Castiel’s chest. “Just— Just don’t do that again.” 

And Dean holds Cas as they are, trying to figure out what he needs to do beyond the obvious mess on them and the gun. Dean tries to put a plan of action together: _clean up; call Sam; get that fucking gun out of here_ , because Dean knows that putting a lock on the box isn’t going to be enough. But neither is cleaning up Cas going to be enough. 

“I won’t do that again,” Cas says quietly. 

Sure, Dean wants to believe him, but as he climbs up and ushers Cas’s limp body into the bathroom, he can’t bring himself to pour in that amount of trust. It’s too dangerous for Cas. 

“I know, angel, I know.”


	32. Chapter 32

Sam’s cell starts buzzing the second he’s through the door and has been pounced on by Bones. Wrestling Bones away, Sam pulls his cell from his jacket pocket and answers it.

“Dean, what’s up?”

“Hey, Sammy,” _not a good sign_ , “could you uh swing by and pick up dad’s revolver for me? I got uh… the best place for it ain’t here right now. You know?”

“Is everything… okay?”

“Sure. If by okay you mean mentally scarring and involving uhh, fluids. Sure. Look, don’t ask. Just come take the frigging thing, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Look I’ll be right over.”

“Super. Super-de-duper. Yeah. ‘K. ‘bye.” Dean hangs up and Sam stows his cell. Bones look up at him expectantly and Sam shakes his head.

Sam lets Bones out onto the balcony while he quickly changes out of his suit and shirt, swapping for jeans and plaid. It’s not like he wants to look all lawyered-up while picking up a firearm that was his dad’s. Sam tries not to think about what Dean meant by fluids. Tries real hard.

“Bones, in,” Sam calls and the golden retriever ambles in. Sam closes the door and picks up his cell and keys again.

Bones starts whining.

“We’ll go for a walk right when I get back, promise.”

Bones looks up at Sam with sorrowful eyes and sits on his haunches. Normally he’d bring Bones with him, but not when he’s clearly walking into something that involves needing to pick up a handgun. _Possibly with surgical gloves._

Heading out, Sam hopes the scene he’s about to drive to is in no way as fucked up as his imagination keeps pushing him towards.

***

“I get that he was, you know… working through what happened in his own way. But seeing your boyfriend suck off a loaded gun is fucking disturbing, no matter which damn way you slice it.”

Sam folds his hands together, forehead creased in concern. _Jesus, what do I even say to that?_

Dean's dangling his hands in through the driver-side window, Dad's gun box having been placed in Sam's lap.

"I've seen stuff like this before, Dean. Oftentimes those who've experienced sexual assault start to have rape fantasies, you know, after the incident. It's good you get that he's just trying to make sense of what happened."

Dean squints at him then, eyes fever-bright and glassy. Tears lurk at the corners with the motion. "Yeah. I, that's—yeah. I just don't know what to do with him anymore, Sam. I don't wanna... commit him again. I don't think he's actually suicidal... and that place..." Dean swallows, and looks away.

"It wasn't good for him. Any idiot could see that." Dean remembers then, Cas looking too small and too thin in the lying whiteness of bright blank hospital sheets, eyes dull, fingers twitching restlessly but unable to hold a pen.

"Maybe..." Sam says slowly, "Cas really does need someone with him 24/7, at least for right now. Meg, she—"

"I dunno, Sammy. I really don't. I don't want anything to remind Cas of when I was gone. But Meg did visit him today, and after she left, he did this." Dean chews on his lips, seemingly fascinated by the driver-side door lock.

"You think, maybe if she had stayed..."

"This never would've happened? Or at least went this far? The hell of it is, I got no freaking clue."

Sam takes the gun box and places it down beside him in the passenger side foot-well, in a blatant excuse to not look at the barely concealed anguish on his big brother's face.

_I've always liked Cas. He was this cool artsy type who was always putting Dean off guard and never falling for any of his macho bullshit... he softened Dean around the edges, made him less of an arrogant jerk-hole. He stayed with Dean and was the one to be strong for him when going through all that stuff with dad… well really, for both of us._

Sam had dealt with John’s worsening condition in his own way; he didn’t have the near blind worship for the man that his brother had, but the mixture of emotions lead to many different kinds of guilt that he often struggled with. Of the two brothers, it was Sam who visited their father more often, however.  
_He's always been there, a rock, and then that stuff with Jimmy... it fucking destroyed him. Then just when he was getting better, that shit at the convenience store. Life is really a crapshoot sometimes._

“Sammy? I should… you know, Cas? Yeah.” Dean shifts uneasily on his feet and scrubs at the back of his neck.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Got you. I’ll just… you know.” Sam tries to smile, but it comes out as a grimace.

Dean nods solemnly and steps back from Sam’s car. “Uh, I’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

“Sure.” Sam starts the engine and drives off, the gun box catching the corner of the his eye as he drives back to his own apartment.

***

Sitting on the couch, Cas keeps nervously tapping his fingers on his knees. He’d wanted to stay in the bedroom, but Dean had made him move.

Now waiting for Dean to return, Cas is under no delusion as to what Dean is doing. He’d seen the box tucked under Dean’s arm.

 _I’m not a child, Dean._ Yet, here they were. Cas can’t even keep it together for the amount of time it took for Dean to come home after Meg had visited. Still, a low grade fury was simmering throughout him. Dancing across his field of vision in roiling black waves. _I’m not suicidal. Perhaps it would be better for everyone, but_ — Cas doesn’t know.

Dean comes back in then, all awkward smiles and bobs of the throat, determined to gloss things over. His limbs seem slightly disjointed with the force of a million aborted movements as he fails to settle on a course of action. Eventually he sits down beside Cas on the couch, steadfastly ignoring the glower Cas has on. He tugs Cas’s stiff body into his arms by the shoulder and clumsily twines the fingers together above one shoulder.

“It’s not—it’s not a big deal. I get what you were doing.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Sure, sure I do. Turning something shitty into something you could control, right?”

Airly, Cas replies, “Something of that nature.”

“Right, right, so…”

“So, it’s not like that!” Cas closes his eyes and tries to stop himself from pulling away. “It wasn’t…” But Cas trails off, unsure what it was, still. _The music and then…_ It had all happened so fast, so… _logically. Like this was what I should do._ There’d been no conscious choice.

“I’m not a child, Dean.” Cas repeats aloud.

Dean snorts. “Well apparently, gun safety is a new and exciting concept for you.”

“Well everything old is new again.” _And fucked._

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Seems to be my default state as of late.”

Dean sighs and squeezes his hand. “Yeah, okay.”

They lapse into silence awhile before Dean tentatively begins, “You know… with my dad’s gun. It’s just a bit too weird for me, you know? What do you think about…” Dean’s voice goes low and husky, “knives?”

Cas shudders. “I… I think I’d like that. I think I may like that a little too much already, in fact.”

Scrubbing his hand down his jaw, Dean gives a sigh. “Maybe this isn’t the right idea. Maybe we need to find a way to make shit not about sex.”

His voice is very low and very small when Cas replies, “But it’s what I know.”

“Yeah, I—I get it. That crap happened with your uncle when you were a kid and now when you’re upset stuff goes through that filter. I read. I was paying attention during counselling. But there’s gotta be another way. Cas, would you—” Dean swallows and licks his lips, “would you consider going to a yoga class or something, maybe? Or… we could run around the neighbourhood together?”

“I know how much you hate running.”

“Yeah, well. I hate seeing you stuck in this fucked up loop a lot more. What do you say, work with me? Maybe… work with Meg?”

“I found it hard to believe she wished to see me again.”

“Yeah, well, I found it hard to believe she was willing to give me the time of day after last time. But here we are. I found you with the gun, after…. after, well. Did something happen?”

“No…. I just felt so useless. I wanted to be useful. I wanted to do something for you and take back some control. I just…. I don’t know. It’s like some outside force was controlling me. I cleaned everything else and then… well it seemed logical. I know how much you treasure your father’s service revolver, that you oil it every three days and field strip it every week. Once I… I got so hard when I smelled the gun oil. I’m sorry, Dean.” Cas is breathing shallowly, a little fast.

Cradling Cas’s cheek in his hand, Dean shushes him and brings him in for a slow gentle kiss. “Shh, baby. It’s alright.”  
A few tears leak out of Cas’s eyes, and Dean kisses them away. “It’s alright. I got you.”

With a pathetic whimper, Cas clutches Dean, whole body wracked with the tremors of a suppressed sob.  
“Shh, you got me.”

“I love you.”

“I know. It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay, baby. I promise.”

“Marry me.”

Dean is silent, rocking Castiel gently.

“I want to be yours, without argument or reproach. Make an honest man of me. Marry me, Dean. Beloved…”

“When we’re in a better place. I swear.”

Cas buries his face in the side of Dean’s neck, trembling.

“I promise, Cas. I love you more than anything in this fucked up shit-hole of a world, and _nothing_ is gonna tear you away from me. Come Hell or highwater. My old man can get his stick out of his ass and crawl out of a bottle, and we’re gonna _do this._ I swear to you, baby. We’re gonna make it happen. Someday soon.” Dean strokes Cas’s hair, rubs a soothing hand at the nape of his neck. “Someday real soon. I’m never gonna leave you again.”

Fervently, Castiel prays, his mouth forming the shape of his god’s name into the side of his neck: _Dean_.

***

When Meg reaches her next client, she has to put all thoughts of Cas out of her head. You can’t drag everyone around—they all need their own space. Meg needs her own space.

Walking towards Mildred Baker’s front door, Meg tries to look forward to the time she’ll be spending with the former tribute singer. Mildred is the kind of person that reminds Meg why she’s stuck it out in this line of work. Chatty, friendly and never down on herself.

Meg rings the front doorbell and waits. There are keys in a keysafe beside the front door to the bungalow, but Mildred always prefers to let Meg in herself. The keys are for emergencies only.

There’s the clack of a cane sounding against wooden floorboards on the other side of the door and then Mildred opens it up and beams at Meg.

“Just on time,” Mildred teases.

“Oh you know, traffic. May I come in?”

Mildred steps aside for Meg and then starts slowly walking towards the kitchen. Keen eyes wandering over what she can see and then through open doorways, Meg checks that nothing is out of place or is cause for concern.

The wobbling gait Mildred takes is due to her slightly busted leg. It’s partly why Meg visits her a few times a week, what with Mildred’s relatives living thousands of miles away, someone needs to keep an eye on her. Especially after how, last year, Mildred was attacked on her way to the bus stop and ended up with several pins in her thigh.

“The doc’s upped my blood thinners, should have a new print out of the amounts somewhere…” Mildred says to herself as she rummages through a folder and then pulls out a sheet of paper.

Taking the paper, Meg checks the date and satisfied it’s current, heads over to the box of pills to set up Mildred’s medicine regime for the next seven days. Even though Meg feels like she must know the dosage amounts by heart now, she never takes the risk of sorting Mildred’s pills by memory.

There’s a distant click of a kettle being put on, but as Meg concentrates, Mildred respects her need to be undisturbed. It’s a different experience from being with Castiel, who is usually just wrapped up in his own world or demanding her attention. _Like a cat. Paws and tail demanding “me time” without a moment’s notice._

The pills don’t take long to sort through and when it’s done, there’s a fresh mug of tea waiting for Meg. Sitting down opposite of Mildred, at a small kitchen table, Meg wonders which grandchild is going to be praised today.

“Are you okay, dear?” Mildred asks, hands drawn around her own mug of tea.

 _And I was not expecting that._ “Uh, sure, everything’s fine. Just been busier than usual is all.”

“You better not be overdoing it. Francis ended up in hospital last week, due to stress. Emma’s been having a terrible time trying to convince him to not take on so much.”

“Mildred, I’m fine. Really.”

“If you say so.” And Mildred leaves it at that, but Meg can’t avoid the look in the old woman’s eyes that suggests she doesn’t believe Meg.

Finishing her tea, Meg sets about bringing Mildred’s home to rights. Sorting her laundry. Cleaning her bathroom. It takes an hour, but Meg is reasonably satisfied once her time’s almost up. Chatting with Mildred about an upcoming bridge afternoon, Meg feels a pang of sorrow at the idea of Mildred being left on her own for days at a time.

But that’s the way it is. Meg would rather have more access, but Mildred’s family can’t pay enough for Mildred to spend entire days with Meg.

 _At least I got no baggage when I step away from here. Nothing to keep me up at night. No one to leave me waking up and feeling like I’ve stepped over every professional boundary I’ve ever put up._ Finishing up, Meg bids Mildred farewell and heads out for her car. _No baggage. Just… normal._

It takes Meg’s cell ringing to make her realize she’s been sat in her car for several minutes, staring off into space. Remembering Cas… and Dean. Checking the caller ID, Meg sees that it’s Bella calling.

 _Just like normal_. Her hands tremble as she picks up the phone.

***

Off the clock and finally in something that isn’t a set of scrubs, Meg pushes back into the low leather couch that Bella’s commandeered in the European style bar-cafe she’s been dragged into. Sinking down into the plush brown leather, Meg unzips her leather jacket and kicks her feet up on the low coffee table in front of her.

“Make yourself at home, why not,” Bella scoffs as Meg settles onto the couch. “I thought you came here to chat, not to fall asleep.”

“I figured I could do a bit of both.” Meg gives Bella a smirk and lazily bends forward to pick up a wine list and consider what’s on offer. Not that Meg is really that tired. _No, just my brain wants to shut down on my behalf and go into Safe Mode._

“Yeah, well I was kind of hoping we’d get some quality pal time together for the sake of me blowing off my client work for the evening.”

Meg laughs. “Client work? That’s what you’re calling it?”

Hushing Meg, Bella lowers her voice. “Well, I’m not exactly going to call it what it is while I’m out in public. People might get the wrong idea.”

 _Oh, now this is all making sense._ “You don’t have any client work at the moment.”

Screwing up her face and nodding, Bella squishes back into the couch’s ample cushions. “I’m fine for cash, for now. But yes, I need to find some more floundering marriages to investigate.”

A waiter draws level with them and takes their drink orders. They ask for a bottle of the house red and two glasses.

“We should probably order some food…” Bella suggests as their waiter retreats.

“Boozy buzz first, food later.” Meg pulls some hair bands out of her pocket and draws her hair up into a loose bun.

“As you say. You seem…. perturbed.” Bella smirks. “Got some new man, driving you ‘round the bend?”

Carefully studying the menu, Meg doesn’t so much as bat an eye. “No.” _Not one, two. And not new, not in the slightest. Ancient history…._

“I don’t believe you.” Bella leans forward, pale green eyes narrowing, face looking even more fox-like than usual.

“Believe what you want. It’s all the same to me.”

However, some wine and hours later…

Bella is looking pale, her eyes wide. “I _can’t believe you_ , Meg! Or them! How could you stand for such loutish treatment? It’s an outrage!”

Shrugging, shoulders hunched in, Meg toys with her wineglass, running her finger around the rim. “Some of it…” she continues in a small voice, “I kind of liked.” Straightening her back, she glares up at Bella imperiously. “And I _owned_ Dean. I positively goaded him into it. He never stood a chance.”

“And where do you see this going, really? Even if they're having problems, they’re still in love with _each-other_ , not you. At best you’d be a _toy_ to them. Is that really what you want? You can do a hell of a lot better!”

“Maybe yes, maybe no, maybe maybe I don’t know,” Meg mutters, smirking, motioning for a waiter to pour her another glass of wine.

“You are infuriating… you, you strumpet!”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Oh lovely. Now I know you can’t hold your liquor as well as I, but you are positively first form right now.”

“How’s that any different than usual?”

Bella huffs, picks up her glass, and takes a long swallow. After a long sigh, she puts the glass back on the table and shakes her head. “Because _you_ are different. At least I thought you were. I thought you weren’t letting people step all over you anymore.”

“Pfff. I’ve done my time with every Tom, Dick, and Harry that thought I’d play Florence Nightingale.” A dark expression crosses Meg’s face. “Or Mary Poppins. _Anyway_ , okay, they both got a bit out of line. But I’m sure we can have a discussion,” Meg waves her glass around for emphasis, mock toasting Bella, “like _adults_ , and everything will be just—hunky-dory.” Meg polishes off her glass of wine.

Bella sighs. “If that’s _really_ what you want to do. I’m sure they’re both hot and you have some sort of lingering affection from childhood, but _really_ , promise me you won’t lose sight of what you’re worth.”

“Yep. Not me. No siree Bob.”

***

It’s late. The moon has just sunk out of view, in fact. But Meg had found herself here, in front of the unassuming bungalow where Castiel and Dean live. Crossing into the shadow under the large eucalyptus tree, she’s on soft cat feet as the leaves rustle gently in the slight breeze, bringing that familiar menthol smell on the air.

_I just can’t seem to stay away._

Meg drunkenly hums a few bars of “the cat came back the very next day”.

She’s right at the front door now.

_Still time to turn back. I can just call another cab. I could just walk away. Maybe I even should._

Across her inner eye, Cas and Dean’s faces swim. Various expressions, moments from the past while cloud her mind. Above all, the lingering sadness that never left Dean’s eyes, and that rarely left Cas’s.

_I just want them to be happy. I know that means I should leave them alone. But I can’t._

Meg firms her jaw and brings her knuckles rap on the door. _And I don’t want to._

“CAS! DEAN! OPEN UP!” Meg knocks harder, her heart pounding.

She keeps knocking and a couple of moments later she’s rewarded with a slightly dazed and grumpy looking Cas in front of the door.

“Meg?” His eyes widen and the light shines in from the house, making his hair a rich brown halo. “Meg,” he opens the door wider, “what are you doing here?”

With a little pout, Meg chews on her lower lip, drunk enough to be deliberately childish. “I miss you. Take me to bed, angel.”

Dean comes up behind Cas then, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Cas? What’s this about?” His eyes won’t settle on Meg… his features are lined heavily with guilt. His face is canted away, shadowed.

“I’m not sure.”

“That’s funny. You were pretty damn sure when you begged to eat me out… a lousy month after Dean’d been gone.”

Dean tightens his jaw and Cas flinches.

“Cas… is that true?”

“....”

“What I really miss is Cas treating me like his own personal teddy bear… it’s so nice to cuddle, isn’t it? Especially when a little something extra gets thrown in?”

“Meg—” Cas growls.

Meg taps Dean on the nose. “You’ve both had me now… so I say it’s my turn to have _you_. Take me to bed.”

A sinking feeling in his stomach, Dean gently shakes his head. “How about I take you home and then you can… ask again when you’re more sober.”

Narrowing her eyes at them, Meg almost does look feline, especially the way her lips curl in a near snarl. “Oh sure. I remember how well that went _last time_ I was near your car. But no dice. I don’t want just you, Dean-o.”

Cas leans towards and Dean to whisper in his ear. “Maybe we shouldn’t leave her by herself?”

Swallowing, Dean lets out a long breath and addresses Meg. “Couch or guest room? We’re not… not doing anything while you’re in this state.” Not talking about what the fuck this is either.

“Bullshit!”

“Meg&mdash! Come the frig on! I’m not taking advantage of you and neither is Cas!”

“Oh yeah, ‘cause that ever stopped _either of you before!_ ”

Dean cringes away from her loudness, worried what the neighbors might be overhearing them. “Look, can we do this inside?”

Meg smirks. “I hope so. I’m not a dendrophile or whatever. Bark is all...scratchy.”

With a long suffering sigh, Cas turns around and gently pushes at Dean’s chest until he backs up. “Come on. This situation is obviously not going to resolve itself anytime soon.”

They both step aside and Dean gestures sarcastically. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Stepping over the threshold, Meg snarks, “So high and mighty. This from the guy that put me on my knees in the gravel and forced his dick down my throat while he strangled me with his belt the other day. What a laugh.”

Unable to help himself, Dean grabs Meg’s upper arm. “Like you didn’t love every damn minute of it, wh—” Dean’s mouth snaps shut, throat clicking as he swallows and gives his head a shake, noting Cas has gone utterly still. _Fuck. One drowning duck at a time. Keep it steady, Winchester._

Dean licks his lips and murmurs, “Get on the couch,” changing his grip to something guiding instead of aggressive.

“Sure thing, sailor,” Meg practically purrs, clumsily reaching out her hand for Castiel’s. Dean settles her onto the couch and she tugs at Cas. “C’mere, Cas.”

“Meg… come on, leave him alone. Just get some shut-eye, okay?”

“Aww, but look, the poor thing is trembling.” Meg puts on a baby-talk voice, “I got just the thing for you, yes I do, Clarence. How about all your Christmases at once and your two favourite people to be naughty with cuddled up on either side of you? Hmmm?”

Numbly, Cas follows her lead, sitting next to her.

“There’s a good boy.”

Dean scowls, glare burning a hole into Meg. _Only I get to call him that, bitch._

Cas squirms, making a small sound in the back of his throat and letting Meg drape him over her.

It pains Dean. _As fucked up as it is, they look natural together. Fuck, I gotta… maybe if we just sit here awhile she’ll nod off?_ Dean settles in beside Cas, pulling him partly into his lap as he sits sideways, back against the couch’s armrest.

“There now, isn’t that nice? How ‘bout a big ol’ kiss?”

Dean can’t exactly see it, but he feels it as Cas shifts. “Cas, no…”

But Cas has gone nearly non-verbal. All he can feel is the gnawing ache of jealousy at his gut, contemplating the scene Meg had painted. _Dean’s never gone anywhere near that far with me. Never trusted me enough. Maybe once he would’ve, but now… since… I can’t blame him for thinking I’m too fragile._

Steadily, he regards Meg. Feeling Dean’s warmth behind him and having Meg encourage him to kiss her sweet lips, even if it was meant partly to mock… it still felt _grounding_. He presses down and forward, tilting his head for better contact, and hears Meg’s soft gasp as her lips part.

Dean hauls Cas back possessively. “We’ve played along with your little game long enough. Drunk is drunk and we’re not frigging doing this, okay?” Dean tilts Cas back and captures his mouth with his own, hand curled around his fiance’s throat.

“So cruel… you’re going to steal him from me again?”

Cas is responsive, panting a little when Dean finally breaks the seal of their mouths. “You let him go. You didn’t even fight.” Dean glares down at Meg, until he sees how fucking _sad_ her big brown eyes are. His features soften. “Look… this. It’s just not the right time. We’re going to bed. Okay?”

Cas has curled a hand around Meg’s knee. “No. Dean—”

“What?”

“Let me stay with her. I can’t bare the thought of her alone down here, in the dark.” _Like I was. Until Meg pulled me out. I never felt the sun on my skin until she came._

“ _Cas_ ,” Meg whimpers, “I want to be with you.”

 _Oh no, here we go. We’re onto the maudlin phase of drunk._ Dean groans.  
“Fuck it, fine.”

And of course Dean can’t leave them alone together. That would be a dumbass idea considering everything that’s happened; the state Meg is in and the low burn of jealousy crackling away in Dean. _Maybe if I got some fluids in her, she’d sober up._

“I’m gonna get Meg a glass of water. Cas, do you want anything?”

His angel looks up at him with big eyes and Dean tries not to get sucked in. “Hot chocolate, please?”

Dean rolls his eyes but nods. “Fine, lemme up.”

Cas sits forward, still cradling Meg and Dean slides some pillows behind Cas as he gets up. He glances over his shoulder once and heads into the kitchen to fix two hot chocolates and pour a glass of water.

Back in the living room, Meg snuggles up against Cas and turns so that her face is buried against his chest. She looks adorable and sweet. Tenderly, Cas reaches out a hand and begins to stroke it through the locks of her hair that have gotten loose from her bun. Meg nuzzles Cas’s chest and his fingers trail from Meg’s hair to her cheek and jaw. Light, long artist’s fingers stroking softly. Meg purrs in his lap.

The thud of cupboard doors and the dull duhhhhhhhhhhh of a microwave drifts from the kitchen. And Cas could almost drift off, then Dean’s beside him, helping Meg take a sip of water. The hot chocolate’s on the coffee table and everything just feels right.

Meg finishes half of her water and then settles down again. Cas watches, sleepily, as Dean pulls a blanket over him and Meg and then himself.

Dean passes Cas his chocolate. “Try not to fall asleep and spill it,” Dean grumps.

But as Meg beds down against Cas and draws him in with her feminine smell, Cas gets the feeling that maybe this is a bad idea. That maybe he’s beginning to like having Meg in his life in ways that Dean might not approve of… _beyond what I’ve already done_.

Cas isn’t sure he wants a life without Meg, again.


	33. Chapter 33

Dawn pokes its head through the blinds in the living room, but Cas has been awake for an hour already. Squished between the breaths and snores of Dean and Meg. Now that it’s lighter, Cas keeps looking out the front window and trying to see the world beyond, but it’s obscured in mist. 

Part of him wants to remain in this embrace of bodies, but he’s getting restless. _I wonder if…_ gradually, pulling up pillows that had fallen onto the floor, Cas slips out from between Meg and Dean, propping Meg up with the pillows. The two stir a little. Meg huffing out her breath in shorter bursts before settling, while Dean lets out a particularly loud snore before his breathing returns to normal. 

Cas would head to his destination straight away, but he spends a second looking at the two of them and smiles. Lightly, he steps away and heads for the front door, still only dressed in his pajamas, feet bare. 

Reaching a hand out to the handle, Cas takes a moment to calm the beating of his heart, as his anxiety kicks into gear. _Nothing is going to hurt me_ , Cas reassures himself as his old fears fight with his new desire to be outside and in the vast expanse of the world. Quietly, Cas opens the front door and steps outside onto the patio there. 

Taking in the misty world, Cas stands there for a moment and then his feet take over, dropping him down onto the lawn, pulling him forward. Step by step. The vast bulk of the eucalyptus tree looms in front of him and Cas aims for it. He reaches his hands out in front of him and half collides with the trunk, wrapping his arms around it like the tree is a long lost friend. 

It’s not long since he and the tree’s bark made contact, but so much had happened. Cas likes how familiar it still feels. Fingers working over a patch of smooth bark, Cas finds the knurl he likes to touch. Tracing the bulges of wood, Cas wonders for the briefest moment if he should have closed the front door. But he stops worrying and instead gropes along the tree until he finds that one strong branch that’s at just the right height. 

Sure hands grip the branch hard and Cas lifts himself off the ground a little and hangs there. The exertion energizing him. Clearing his head, at least a little, and Cas ponders if he’d be up for going out for breakfast with everyone. 

Stepping beyond the boundaries of Dean’s and his home. 

Back in the living room, Dean sleepily opens his eyes as he realizes that the reassuring weight of Cas between his legs is gone. The air is chill and it takes Dean a few more moments to feel the breeze sneaking through the house. 

_Cas?_ Dean climbs up and notes that Meg is still fast asleep, breaths even and deep. Rubbing at his arms, Dean walks towards the front door and spots it open. Panic rises up inside him and he finds a pair of old sneakers and quickly jams them on. 

Stepping out into the misty world of outside, Dean’s head whips this way and that as he tries to see if Cas is out there in the front yard. 

“Cas?” He calls, loudly, but not so much so that he’ll wake the whole neighborhood. “Cas?!” 

Feet heading down the lawn now, Dean sees the hulk of the eucalyptus tree emerge out of the fog, branches poking outward like a monstrous gnarled hand. There’s no sign of Cas and then… 

Dean spots Cas’s thin frame hanging from a branch. Swinging back and forth. It’s childlike: he’ll swing back and forth a few times, stop and put his feet on the ground, and then lift himself up and continue. 

The sight of Cas in that tree—outside like this—stops Dean where he is. Breath catching in his chest. A sob threatens to break through and shatter the calm dawn quiet that’s settled in with the mist. Dean’s legs feel weak and he can’t fight his sobs if he stays on his two feet, so he slides down to the ground and kneels on the lawn. 

Cas rests for another few seconds and then picks himself up again. Watching Cas, Dean can see the beautiful strain of muscles in his arms and back, the sure grip, and he’s not sure how he could ever have thought of Cas being completely incapable. 

The first tear runs down Dean’s cheek. Soundlessly, but it’s there nonetheless. Light feet step towards Dean and Meg reaches out to him, softly placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. Another tear slides over Dean’s cheek. 

“It’s okay,” Meg whispers to Dean. “He’s gonna be okay. You’re going to be fine.” 

And of all the crap that has happened to Dean in his life, it has to be this one woman who he’d hardly thought of until four months ago. A flame from the fumblings of youth, who has paved the way for this moment to happen with Cas. Castiel, Dean’s biggest obsession, the one person he always wants to be happy, but has failed at making happy for so much of their lives. 

A bigger sob works its way through Dean, and then Meg’s pulling his face into her chest so that he doesn’t make so much noise. The sobs are bigger now and Meg is brushing his back as he cries and trembles. Cas continues to swing, unaware of Dean falling apart behind him. 

_Cas… yesterday you had a gun in your fucking mouth while you jacked off, today you’re outside for the first time in days swinging from a damn tree without a care in the world. I wish I could’ve done this for you. Instead…_

Instead, there’s Meg. She gave Cas the courage. All he’d managed on his own was… finding Cas seconds away from putting his finger on the trigger. 

_What the fuck do I do?_

“Meg,” Dean croaks, “What the fuck do we do?” 

“I’m as in the dark as you are… let’s just try to get along, for his sake. Okay?” 

Dean takes a shuddering breath. “Okay...I can do that. I can.” His fingers twitch. _What the hell do I do about how easy it is for her to rile me?_ “Maybe… fuck, I don’t know. We really piss each-other off. What do we do about that?” 

Sighing, Meg strokes a hand down Dean’s back. “Try to suck it up? Or maybe ask Cas to keep us in line?” 

Chewing on his lip, Dean only manages a stuttering sigh in response. _Cas holding the three of us together. I don’t know._

Meg brings her forehead against Dean’s. “Maybe we can… work on why we piss each other off? And help our angel at the same time?” 

Stiffening against Meg, Dean’s jaw ticks a little. “Our angel?” He whispers harshly. Dean pulls away slightly and looks at Meg through his tear sore eyes. 

Meg nervously licks her lips and Dean tracks the movement. “I don’t think he wants me gone… but I’m under no delusion that this is a professional relationship anymore.” 

“Damn straight it isn’t!” Dean practically hisses. 

“And now we’re arguing.” Meg crosses her arms and looks at Dean like he’s a ten year old that needs to calm the fuck down. 

“Thanks, captain obvious. Yeah, yeah, okay. Fine. Jesus. Just… don’t act like you have some kind of claim on him. I get you’re… important, okay? Just don’t talk like that. I can’t take it.” 

Meg leans in closer than Dean would like and looks up into his eyes. “What else can’t you take? I’m curious now. Might as well get it out in the open before Clarence’s play date is over.” 

Closing his eyes to find some kind of resolve, Dean comes up lacking. “Fuck if I know. I guess we’ll find out. But first off, no coming around when you’re three sheets to the wind, got it? That was frigging messed up.” 

With a sniff, Meg scowls at her fingernails. “I think after a week of near rape and then getting it rough from someone who barely let safe-sex enter the equation—” Dean flinches, “and said they didn’t give a damn what I want, I was entitled.” 

“Yeah, okay. Fine. Just don’t do it again.” 

If he wasn’t so close to Meg right now, Dean’s sure he’d miss the predatory gleam in her eyes. “And what…,” Meg leans in a little closer, “is this thing the three of us are doing?” There’s an innocence in her voice when she asks the question, but Dean’s aware that there is none actually there. 

The branch creaks as Cas continues to swing. Dean could back off from Meg, but he’s finding it difficult to pull himself away and to a safer distance, as he tries to scramble together a reply. “That’s,” Dean licks his lips, “that’s up to Cas.” 

“Coward,” Meg scoffs, getting to her feet and dusting off her pants. 

_Shut up. Fuck you_. Dean gives his head a shake and sighs. He scrubs at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and also gets up. Together, they walk nearly in step to Cas. 

“Hey, Buddy,” Dean says cheerfully. “Having fun up there?” His voice cracks only a little. 

“Yes, you could say that.” Cas grins down. “Hello Meg.” 

“Hello Clarence.” “Feeling a little more sober today, are we?” 

Meg laughs. “Sure, if the pounding in my head is any indication.” 

“Cas,” Dean says, shuffling forward, putting a hand on his dangling leg. “You got some more pages of Preternatural to get out today?” 

Shifting his hands and then gently dropping down, Cas straightens up and regards Dean and Meg, head tilted in that way he does when he’s unsure or curious. He dusts his hands and tries to stall, because he wants to ask about breakfast. 

“Cas?” Dean presses. 

“I have some pages I finished, but have yet to upload and post. It’ll take me an hour to put the next installment online, and shower and dress… but…” 

“But?” Dean frowns. 

“But if I go and do that quickly, could we… could we,” Cas licks his lips and starts fidgeting with his fingers, body shifting side to side, as nerves take over, “head _out_ for breakfast. All three of us?” 

Green eyes wide open in shock, Dean stands there dumbly. Cas starts worrying he’s gone too far, too fast. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want, Clarence?” 

Cas bites his bottom lip a little. “Nowhere too far from here. Please.” 

“Okay. Okay, we can do that. Sure thing.” Dean plasters on a cocksure grin he doesn’t feel, shooting a surreptitious glance at Meg, jerking his eyebrows up and down in a silent plea to back him up, here. 

“You bet. I know just the place. In an hour, huh? Okay. I guess Dean-o and I can… find some way to amuse ourselves.” 

Cas smiles. “I’d like that.” He looks so warm and alive, shy, completely opposite the ashen and brittle figure that was sitting back on the bed, exposed, spent and covered in sweat and come the day before. Dean swallows thickly. 

_Yeah. Okay. I can… if it’s for you. I can. I can do fucking anything._ “Sure. Let’s have a chat. You can tell me about this place,” Dean tries, turning to Meg. 

Sphinx-like, Meg smiles, offering her hand. Dean looks to Cas, and at his nod, takes her hand. It’s small and cold inside his own. Something inside of him relaxes while another part of him makes his heart-rate ratchet up with tension. _I fucked her. I degraded her and called her a whore and then cried, and here she is, smiling and holding my hand like we’re all skipping down Sesame street. Fuck my life._

Still smiling, Cas powers on ahead of Dean and Meg, and heads back into the house. It’s Meg that leads Dean back inside and towards the kitchen. He can hear Cas getting settled in his office, computer whirring to life, chair rolling, but Dean’s attention is drawn towards Meg as she deposits him at the breakfast counter. Meg walks over to the refrigerator and helps herself to a bottle of chilled water. 

“So you know a place?” Dean starts. 

“Yeah. The family that owns that deli you guys like? They expanded while you were away, took over the building next door and now they’ve got this nice little home away from home, cafe-bistro thing going on. Nice food. Warm. Friendly. Not too big.” Meg goes over to the drawer where they keep a bottle of aspirin and pulls it open. 

Dean notes Meg’s familiarity with some annoyance as he watches her shake out a couple of pills. “Yeah, just help yourself,” he mutters. 

Meg cocks an eyebrow at him, then swallows back the aspirin. “Problem?” 

“Nah,” Dean waves it off. “So, you think this place’ll work then?” 

Drawing level with Dean, Meg places a hand over his and gives a squeeze. “Yeah. How long has it been?” 

Looking down at her hand over his, Dean murmurs, “Nearly a year.” 

“It’ll be fine. We got this.” 

Dean gives a sarcastic thumbs up and a grin. “Let’s just make sure no one on the away team wears a red shirt on this mission, huh?” 

Laughing, Meg punches Dean’s shoulder. “You dork.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” They smile at each-other for real then, and— and something hangs in the air between them. A little spark. “Meg,” Dean murmurs, putting a hand on her chin. 

“Yeah.” Meg looks up at Dean intently, and narrows the distance. The kiss they share is brief, but surprisingly soft. She puts her hand on Dean’s hip and he strokes a hand down her throat. They lock eyes for another moment before trying again. This kiss deepens, tension thrumming in the air between them and making their hair stand on end. 

“Cas—” Dean starts, backing off a little. 

Still in his pajamas, Cas is staring at the two of them, expression unclear, though his head is tilted to the side. His chest is clearly rising in short, fast breaths, mouth open a little. 

“Net’s being slow. Wanted to check on you… while the comic uploaded… done editorial,” he tries to explain. His eyes are wide as he takes in Dean and Meg. 

Dean feels like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and then Meg takes a step closer, reclaiming the space Dean had vacated. 

“Cas,” Meg says firmly, “Do you want to talk about this?” Meg puts a hand in Dean’s. 

Managing a small nod, Cas pads over to them and Dean’s face feels warm. 

_There’s no explaining this. What the fuck do I say?_ Dean panics. Cas is staring up at him; he takes Dean’s face in his hands and kisses him slowly, licking inside. Dean responds shyly, feeling Meg’s hand warming around his own. 

When they part, Cas says softly, “It’s okay. It’s good the two of you are getting along.” 

A small pang hits Cas’s chest as he thinks, _just don’t like each-other so much you don’t need me anymore_. It makes his ribs feel like they’re being squeezed in a vise and his heart jack-hammers. 

Meg asks, “What would you like us to be?” 

Dean jerks his head to look at her, startled, before looking back at Cas. 

“Happy,” Cas says simply, giving her a shy smile. 

“How do you want us to be happy?” Meg pushes. 

Cas looks between Dean and Meg, pursing his lips as he wonders what he’s allowed to ask. “I… want Dean a lot… and I want you to be a part of this. That would… that would be good,” Cas answers, voice a little higher and nervous than usual. “Dean?” 

Thickly swallowing, Dean whips his head round between the two of them. He feels a little light headed. “I dunno, Cas. I know we kinda uhh… skipped some steps,” Dean’s cheeks burn as he darts a look at Meg, “But I think the whole— _relationship_ thing means going on dates to figure out if it can work, first. So, let’s just start here, today. Okay?” Meg gives him an amused smirk in return. 

“Yes, Clarence, maybe slowing things down is for the best? Maybe we know each-other pretty well, but Dean and me? Not so much. Not in the non-biblical sense, anyway.” Meg smirks. 

A slow understanding nod works its way out of Cas, but he still smiles. “Dates… okay. Yes. Okay. Slow. Sure.” It’s like he’s found a solution to completing a Rubik’s cube in ten seconds and he doesn’t want to forget the method. He lets Dean’s and Meg’s words sink in. 

“Do you wanna go check on how your comic upload is doing?” Dean asks. 

Nodding again, Cas is about to turn away when he impulsively pulls Meg in for a kiss, hasty and warm on her lips and then kisses Dean again in return. Then Cas is sprinting off like a kid that’s worried he’s gonna miss fourth of July fireworks if he takes his time. 

Dean lets out a slow sigh and grabs an orange, a thumb trailing along the rough texture as he rotates it in his hand. 

“Dean?” 

“Yeah?” he mutters, not looking up. 

“Are you on board with this, tiger?” 

“Sure. Why the hell not?” 

“I can think of a few reasons,” Meg replies, trailing her thumb down Dean’s forearm. 

He flinches a little. “Yeah, well…. anything to make Cas happy.” 

“You don’t think it won’t make you happy, too? Having someone else to take the heat? Maybe someone… you’re not afraid to be rough with in bed, hmm?” 

Dean clenches his jaw “Meg— don’t. Just don’t, okay? It’s enough for me right now, trying to put two and two together and settle in with the idea of— of the other day not being, you know, a one-off.” 

Withdrawing her hand and folding her arms, Meg turns away and looks out the window. Dean digs his thumb in under the stem end of the orange and starts unpeeling it. The morning fog is burning off. Bits of pith wedge under his thumbnail as his voice takes on a husky tone. “Is that what you like? You like it rough? You a—” Dean audibly swallows, peeling half the skin off of the orange, shooting a stinging mist of orange oil around his fingers— “a bottom?” 

Curling her fingers around her arm, Meg replies, “Maybe. But don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m submissive. I’m not gonna roll over for you, Dean-o.” 

“And Cas?” the peel is about two-thirds off now, and still whole. 

Her tone is dark as Meg answers, “Already did. Repeatedly. Probably a mistake.” 

Dean fumbles the orange, nearly dropping it, but manages to settle it back into his hand and remove the peel in one piece. “Maybe.” He drops the peel on the counter and crosses in front of Meg, breaking away a section of orange, juice spraying his fingers. They lock gazes as Dean slowly presses the piece of fruit to her lips. Meg opens her mouth as Dean pushes it in, the tips of his fingers pushing in. 

“I know… he can be hard to resist when he’s …. worked up.” Dean traces Meg’s lips with his fingertips and whispers, “I’m barely any better.” Her pink tongue darts out, licking off the orange juice, and Dean shivers before pulling his hand away and turning to face the window. 

Chewing the segment of orange and then swallowing it, Meg crowds against Dean’s back. “Are you saying that I would have a lot to handle if I stick around? Outside of all the help I’m gonna make sure Cas gets so he has a chance at being better?” 

Lowering his head, Dean lightly laughs and licks his lips. Shifting his gaze back to the window. “I’m saying if you take the two of us on… fulltime, then maybe you’ll have a lot on your plate.” 

A shiver passes through Meg and she reaches out to Dean’s elbow. “Let’s see how breakfast goes,” Meg strokes Dean’s arm, “and then take it from there.”


	34. Chapter 34

“This is… cooozeeee,” Cas states, drawing out the word “cosy” and feeling how it sounds. The three of them are sat in the back of the cafe—Cas with a full view of the front entrance—crowded around a round wooden table that’s covered in a red and white checked table cloth. 

“Quaint,” Dean pitches in. 

“Charming?” Meg suggests. 

Cas nods in answer to both suggestions, eyes flicking around the small space. He likes being able to see the entrance and the front of house. The door to the kitchen is to his right, but he’ll see anyone coming out of it before they see him. Dean and Meg had let him pick their table. 

It was still early. Two other tables were occupied by a diner each. One elderly lady and one elderly gentleman. The two of them kept throwing glances at each other and Cas wonders if they do this every morning. Ponders if there’s some unrequited love hanging between these two strangers. _If they were married still, I bet their partners would be here with them…_

“Dean!” Cries the matriarch behind the establishment. Half American, a quarter Italian and a quarter German, Cas notes Vanessa has more greys in her reddish brown hair than the last time he saw her. Her older husband, Francis, who’s half American and half Italian, has been peppery grey for as long as Cas has known him. 

“Hey, Vanessa,” Dean beams at the deli owner as she approaches their table. 

“Has Oscar taken your order yet?” Vanessa asks, reaching their table. 

“No he has not,” Castiel replies simply. 

Vanessa does a double take. “Castiel? Oh my goodness, how long is it since I saw you?” 

“A while, I would wager,” Cas replies, tone low. He feels anxious having this much attention on him. 

Something must show on his face, because before Cas or Vanessa can say anything else, Dean pipes in, “Vanessa, could you take our orders, please?” with a sheepish smile. 

“Sure thing, sweetie.” 

Everyone orders lattes and pastries, but Cas also asks for a bowl of fruit salad and yoghurt as well. Meg begs for two shots of espresso in her latte. It’s a simple, uncomplicated breakfast that won’t take them forever, which is good Cas decides as he nervously bobs his knees under the table. 

“How you doing?” Meg asks softly, hand suddenly on top of Cas’s. 

Below the table, Dean tries to calm his bouncing knees by squeezing one. 

Cas stares at the front entrance, trying to ignore the tiny corner of his brain that’s convinced shit is going to go wrong. That some asshole is going to walk through there and it’s going to be the convenience store all over again. The phantom memory of the smoky, acrid stench of gunsmoke curls through Cas and his breathing gets a touch faster. 

“Hey, Cas, just breathe with me,” Dean says steadily, hand now stroking Cas’s arm, “like this.” Dean pulls in a deep breath, slow and long, and then lets it out gently. “You can do it. Like this.” 

Mimicking Dean’s breathing, Cas slowly calms his breathing. Meg leaves and returns with a glass of water and puts it down in front of him. The ghost of gunsmoke is almost gone. 

“You’re doing good, angel,” Dean reassures, “really good.” 

_Don’t want to be useless. Don’twannabe… Useless…_ Cas repeats to himself over and over, as he tries to keep his breathing in check. A hand comes to the small of his back and rubs him there, Meg making low soothing noises as she touches him. Dean’s making similar sounds as he strokes Cas’s arm. 

_Cas, hang in there buddy. God I’m so fucking worried about you and everything else I don’t know what to do with myself._ For the past couple of weeks, it’d really just been one crisis after another. The sight of Cas with the gun in his mouth and the dark expression of lust that had painted his face—the way his eyes had become fathomless pools, empty, abandoned—flashes across Dean’s mind’s eye. _Fuck does Meg even know that happened? Jesus, how do I tell her? Is it even any of her business? Well, she did try to warn me…_

Looking past Cas over at Meg, he sees her usually stoic features softened by concern. Her eyes flick up to him and as they share a look he sees the glint of steel in her resolve. 

_We’re both just cursed to love broken people, is that what draws us together?_  
Dean’s thinking more of his father, but he can’t deny that Cas is… well Cas is a bit much at times. He breaks first, averting his eyes. Nervously, more to comfort himself than Castiel, he rubs his not-quite-fiance’s shoulder and bicep. _I love you, Cas. God do I fucking ever. But sometimes…_

Taking a deep breath, Dean lifts his gaze to the window and stares out at the sun streaming in. _Sometimes I wish things were different. If I were a more honest man, I’d say it was every day._

Cas’s breathing is evening out and he’s attempting to raise a spoonful of yogurt to his mouth with a hand that trembles only slightly. 

Humming Lynard Skynard’s “Simple Man” under his breath, Dean taps his foot and bounces his knee. 

Looking down in mild puzzlement, Cas puts a calming hand on said knee. When he resumes attempting to eat an almost toddler like expression of intense effort crosses his features. 

“ _Be something you love and understand_ ,” Dean sings under his breath. Meg arches an eyebrow and gives him a look before raising her coffee mug to her lips. 

_“Do this one thing for me, if you can,_ ” Dean continues, feeling the air squeezed out of his chest. As he continues to sing softly, it almost sounds like whistling. He needs to be— somewhere. Somewhere not here, in this mess he’s made. _Not that it was all me._

“I—I gotta’ hit the head.” He can’t meet either Cas’s or Meg’s eyes, he just shoves away from the table and gets up, barely paying any heed to Cas’s misplaced hand. He heads for the bathroom, but bypasses it, exiting to the alley outside. 

The air outside is filled with that faint almost-vomit stench endemic to overfilled dumpsters everywhere in the early summer. The metal door clicks shut behind Dean and he stares at it for a long minute.  
_I could go. I could just haul out my cell, lie and say I got called into work. Leave Meg to deal with Cas on her own. Leave Cas to sink or swim._

Dean kicks the door violently and swears. He kicks it again and his eyes water at the pain in his toes. _Winchester you fucking cowardly sack of shit. You gonna run again, just like you ran out on your dad? Just like your mom did?_

The phantom of John’s voice fills Dean’s head again, that familiar refrain alongside slurs about him and Cas. About how Dean could do so much better and all he was doing was trading one fuck-up for another. He leans against the door, forehead to the warming metal, hand wrapped around the handle. His thumb flicks at the lever over and over. 

_I need a drink. Fuck. I need a screw._ The sensation of Kita’s lips under his own, of the accompanying thrill as an unfamiliar hand had pawed at his erection, floods him. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and bangs his head on the door. _Fuck my life._

A vibration in his pocket alerts Dean his phone is ringing. _Whaddya know. Maybe I’ll get called into work after all._ When he checks the caller ID though, it’s Sam. With a repressed sigh, he answers. “Yeah?” 

“Hey Dean. Not to, uh, put too fine a point on things… I know it’s early in the day, I was just—” 

“Spit it out, Sammy.” Dean kicks off from the door and puts his back to the wall. 

“How’s Cas? You uh… kinda. Well yesterday was a bit dicey, right?” 

A bark of laughter escapes Dean. “Yeah, dicey. Sure. Let’s go with that. Oh he’s just jim-fucking-dandy. He and the girl we’re both screwing are living it up having Sunday brunch at a cafe like real live adults.” 

“You—you what? It’s great Cas is out! But what in the hell did you just say?” 

Dean wedges his cellphone between his neck and shoulder, jams his hands down into his pockets. “You heard me.” 

“Dean....” 

“Oh I can’t get him to do a damn thing. But for little miss Florence Nightingale in there? Oh yeah suddenly he’s swinging from the damn tree in the front yard—” At Sam’s startled gasp Dean amends, “—by his arms, Sam! And out at a restaurant. A year.” Dean bangs his fist on the wall. “A goddamn year almost, what does he manage for me? Jumping fucking anything that moves, that’s goddamn what!” 

“Whoa, Dean, fuck—” 

“Yeah, yeah Gabe and I talk. You bet your sweet ass we do. We’re both survivors and current members of the “fucked up by Cas” club. God love him, and I sure do, I know it’s not Cas’s fault. I just—Jesus.” 

With a sigh, Dean hunches his shoulders in and badly wishes for a joint. 

“Hey now big brother, you’re still doing your best. I don’t think jealousy is the answer here.” 

“Oh yeah? Tell me what is then? Fucking Meg better than Cas can? He’s got a whole month’s headstart, I’m not feeling too confident.” Dean laughs bitterly. 

“What even happened there?” 

“Oh, the usual. You know, walk in on Cas about to fuck her in the no-no place without permission, next day get the facts from her and I don’t like ‘em, so I try to make her eat her words but she was the one in control the entire time. Yeah. I couldn’t even make a nurse my bitch. Some life, huh? I’m such a fucking loser.” 

Sam gives a long, pained sigh on the other end of the line. “Listen, I’m gonna come and get you, okay? I’ll drive everyone home after. We’ll just make something up and you can just hang out and blow off some steam playing Left for Dead 2 or something, okay?” 

“I’d rather be blowing some _body_.” Dean snarks. 

“Dean—” 

“There it is, there’s that bitch-face I love.” 

An audible sigh comes from Sam. “I’m coming to get you. Make your excuses.” 

_And isn’t that just the fucking thing? How I keep making excuses to myself and letting this circle jerk keep spinning around?_ “Sure, sure.” 

“Where are you again?” Sam’s moving now, Dean can hear him leaving his apartment. 

“Cafe that’s beside the deli.” 

“Move your car and then meet me at the corner of main and fourth. I’ll see you in five.” 

And then Sam’s gone. 

In the end, Dean takes the easy route, lying that work has called him in and then disappearing, after a brief kiss on Cas’s lips and Meg promising she’ll stay with Cas today, and letting them know Sam can give them a lift. 

***

Bones greets Dean the second he sets foot into Sam’s apartment. The thirty minutes that pass while Sam ferries Cas and Meg back to the house, see Dean sinking into Sam’s leather couch. Legs stretching out and torso almost completely parallel with with the couch’s seat. At some point he must have kicked his boots off and taken his socks off, because Bones starts to lick his toes. 

Normally Dean’s at least a little ticklish, but as he blanks out everything else in the room, and draws in on himself, the feeling of Bones’ tongue is almost soothing. 

“Yo, Dean!” Sam calls, a foot away from Dean’s face. 

Eyes slowly focusing on Sam, Dean realizes that Bones is no longer licking his feet. “Sorry, I’ll make us some coffee.” 

“No, you’ll sit up and make sure Bones doesn’t lick your feet. I’ll make the coffee. And then we’ll talk.” 

Easing up into a sitting position, Dean grabs his socks and notices that Bones is watching his every move. Looking from the dog to his socks and then to his feet, Dean decides against pulling his socks up and over drying dog drool. Getting up, Dean heads for the bathroom. 

Five minutes later, he’s back on the couch, socks on, and getting mopey looks from Bones. Sam is frowning at Dean, but doesn’t say anything. The quiet makes Dean think about anyone but himself. He’s finished dwelling on his own crap, he can’t do it anymore today. 

Dean twists in his seat and begins to really look at Sam’s apartment. The living room is big and spacious, like much of Sam’s apartment. There’s a large TV; a bed for Bones; a low shelving unit stacked with DVDs and old photographs. Pictures of Sam and Dean when they were younger. Their mom and dad in happier times. High school and college graduation photos. 

But no proms. No dates. Guilt nips at Dean’s heels as he tries to figure out when and how Sam’s life had become so empty. 

“When did you and Jess break up?” Dean asks, voice sounding hoarse. Turning to face Sam, he catches a pained look on his brother’s face. 

“So you’re gonna talk about me when we need to talk about you?” Sam glares at Dean a little. Not full bitch-face, but close. 

“When’d you split?” 

Sam takes a sip of coffee and looks Dean straight in his eyes as he puts the cup down. “How do you… Hell… It was my third year of Stanford,” Sam says in an accusatory tone and Dean realizes he should know this. 

“Why?” Dean doesn’t remember. He’d been too caught up in Cas back then. He finishes his coffee and puts the cup beside Sam’s. 

A blush is rising up on Sam’s cheeks and Dean knows he should just tell Sam to forget he asked. Shouldn’t push, because what good would be achieved by making his little brother feel like crap? 

“Why did you and Jess break up?” Pushes Dean. 

Sam puts a hand through his hair and looks away from Dean. “I’m not telling you. We broke up and that’s all there is to it.” 

Asshole mode has fully engaged. Dean’s found someone else’s misery to wallow in for once and he’s happy to do this as long as no one asks him about him. 

“C’mon, Sammy, why’d you and Jess split up? And when’d you last have a—” 

“Quit it, Dean. Just shut your mouth.” 

Bones growls from the other side of the room. 

“Why’s my brother’s love life non-existent, huh? Why’d Jess split with you? Why—” 

Dean doesn’t see the fist, but it connects cleanly with his jaw and sends him crashing against the back of the couch. The wind knocked out of him, Dean stares up at Sam as his brother stands ramrod straight, shoulders and chest heaving, anger curling his lips. 

Pulling himself up, Dean reaches a hand up to his jaw and feels a dribble of blood from his lip. Dazed, Dean’s not quite sure why he pushed Sam when he clearly didn’t want to answer him. 

“Sam—” Dean starts. 

“Fuck you, Dean! Fuck you! I said stop. You just… just kept...” Sam shudders, tears on the way. Dean’s up on his feet, ignoring the pain and falling into his default role as big brother who isn’t normally an asshole. 

Bones rushes over to Sam and barks at Dean. Clearly concerned for his owner. 

“I didn’t...” Dean gets in Sam’s space, Bones backing off, and his moose of a brother lets him wrap his arms around him. Draw him into a hug. Sam sobs into his shoulder and Dean feels like the worst person in the world. He’d let Sam take another swing at him if he thought it would stop the tears soaking his shirt. _But you did mean it, you asshole, you wanted to pry because you had enough of being kept in the dark while you were gone, and now look at what you’ve done._

Dean steers Sam back down onto the couch and picks up Sam’s right fist. The knuckles are already swelling. 

“Gonna need to get some ice on this.” Dean gets up from the couch, but Sam’s hand grabs his shirt and holds him in place. 

“I couldn’t… she couldn’t wait…” Sam croaks. “Let me grab a glass of water and some ice.” 

Nodding, Sam lets go and Dean hurries to the kitchen. He gets an ice bag and a glass of water and rushes back in. Spotting some Kleenex, he grabs those too and sits back down beside Sam. He cleans Sam’s face up a little first, not caring for the mess Sam’s made of his own. Holding the ice bag to Sam’s fist, Dean watches his brother sip the water and then he takes the glass and puts it down. 

Sam clears his throat. “I—” 

“You don’t have to tell me, Sammy. I was being a jerk. It’s none of my business.” 

“D—Dean, if I… if I can’t tell you then there’s no one I can tell.” Sam takes a deep breath. “Jess and I split up… because I couldn’t… give her what she wanted.” 

“What, you didn’t want to commit?” Dean asks, confused. 

“No.” Sam winces as he shifts the ice bag. “I couldn’t sleep with her Dean.” 

_Wait, is he saying he’s.... C’mon, how could he think that was ever a big deal? I mean, me and Cas… Hell, he’s never given a crap what dad thinks._

“So… you’re gay?” Dean asks calmly. “Because if you are, it’s no big deal, Sammy. Seriously, I—” 

“I’m not gay. I’m… asexual.” 

_Wait, what?_

“I don’t feel attracted to anyone. I don’t want sex… But I didn’t have a word for it back then and Jess—she tried to understand, but she couldn’t. 

“And then instead of breaking it off, she pretended everything was fine but slept with other guys behind my back the whole fucking time. She broke my heart. So there you have it, Dean. This is why your little brother doesn’t have a love life. Happy?” 

Dean is anything but happy. “Of course I’m not happy. Christ, Sammy, why didn’t you—” 

“Because you’ve always been so.... _You_ , Dean. I didn’t think you’d understand.” 

Dean’s not sure what to say to that. He wonders if it’s too early for them to start drinking. 

***

“He left,” Cas mutters glumly, staring at the dark television. 

Meg reaches for the remote, second guesses herself and puts it back down. “So what?” 

“Meg he didn’t… he looked hunted when he came back in to say goodbye. Doesn’t that strike you as peculiar?” 

“I dunno. You’re his not-husband.” 

Cas looks up sharply, from the living room reflected in the screen and captures Meg’s gaze. “He promised.” His jaw is firm, stare icy fire. 

Regarding Cas calmly, Meg pointedly raises an eyebrow. “Is that a question or a declarative statement, Clarence?” 

“Dean promised he wouldn’t leave ever again… and that when things are more… settled, we are to be wed, he and I.” 

“Clearly that’s a cause celebre. So what’s got you all antsy?” 

Cas averts his gaze to the carpet. “That was only yesterday. And today… he’s not here.” 

Rubbing a fingernail slowly around the edges of the power button, Meg sighs. _I can’t believe I’m defending him._ “He had work, so what?” 

“You really believe that?” 

“You don’t?” _Stupid, obvious question, Masters!_

In short order, Cas has come to crowd Meg, and takes the remote out of her hands.  
“Megan…” Cas is all gooey and vulnerable, and it’s doing _things_ to her insides.  
“I don’t know what to do,” he whispers. He’s adorably awkward, butting up against her like a baby penguin unsure of its welcome. 

“Come here, idiot.” Meg takes Cas into her arms, pulling him to flush to her so he’s straddling her lap while she leans against the back of the couch. 

Cas cries softly into her neck. “I want to be better. I just don’t know how. How do I… I’m so useless, how do I…. how do I make Dean happy? How do I make him stay?” 

_God, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve asked myself that._ “I’ll help you, honey, shh…” Meg holds Cas tightly, stroking soothing circles into his back and sometimes letting her fingers wander into his hair. “We’ll work it out. Let’s… let’s come up with something for him to look forward to, huh?” 

Cas’s face is hot and wet on her neck and he sniffles quietly. “I like that idea. Yes I… I need to show Dean I’ve been thinking of him and not just myself. I believe it would further endear you to him as well. What shall we do…” Cas trails off in thought. 

Fingers massaging the back of Cas’s head, Meg wonders what could further “endear” her to Dean. She suspects that if he saw Cas in her lap right now she’d have a harder struggle. 

“Hey, what’s Dean’s favorite food these days?” _That’s it, go for the classics._

“Burgers, steaks, Mexican and of course pie has never fallen out of favor. Apple or cherry…” Cas trails off, but the sobs have stopped and Meg can feel him relaxing against her. 

“How about we fry up some steaks and bake a pie for dessert?” Meg’s fingers work Cas a little harder. “Maybe get in some of his favorite beer.” 

Rapid nods from Cas tell Meg it’s a good idea. Though she’s not going to be able to just head out to the store for what she needs. She’ll call Kevin up later and put an order in for him to drop off tomorrow. 

“I’ll call Kevin and make an order. But you’re gonna have to help me with the pie.” 

“Okay,” replies Cas in a small voice that is completely at odds with the inches he has on Meg. 

_It’ll be homey and all domesticated and oh so sickeningly sweet_ , Meg half laments, but not fully, because she kind of likes the idea of being that kind of domestic for these two dweebs. _Still, kinda relying on Dean coming back_ , Meg thinks as her thoughts turn to trying to guess what’s going on in that man’s head.


	35. Chapter 35

Time of day? Dean doesn’t know. He’s been drinking for so long that the passage of time has gotten kinda hazy. He knows it’s dark outside. He’s pretty sure that Sam has taken Bones out to do his business about three times since he came over. 

A couple of pizza boxes still have slices inside. _Maybe…_ Dean leans forward, sliding off the leather couch and onto the hard floor. Behind him, Sam laughs. Across the room, Bones barks and wags his tail before settling in his bed again. 

“Don’t think you’re… meant to slide off the couch like that,” Sam says, voice unsteady from booze. 

“I’m fine… t—thanks for asking.” Dean opens the nearest box and slips out a cold slice of pepperoni heaven. 

Shifting behind him, Sam stretches forward, managing to stay put and grabs at another box. He retrieves a slice covered in jalapenos, bell peppers, spinach, mozzarella, and now that Dean thinks about it: there’s no meat on it. He’s not entirely sure how they managed to order a vegetarian pizza while drunk, but Sam had still managed to be at least a little healthy. 

“Anyways, you’re not… f—fine,” Sam slurs and takes a bite of his cold slice, chews and swallows. “What the hell is going on?” 

Usual safeguards lowered—the ones that stop Dean from talking about himself and what’s really going on in his head—Dean actually gives Sam’s question some serious, albeit drunken, consideration. And his Sammy had told him something pretty big and scary too… _maybe I should come clean?_

“Meg’s what’s goin’ on. And Cas wanting to continue on with this whole…” Dean rolls his hand at the wrist in an encompassing circle, “you, me and dupree bullshit.” 

Sam squints at him from across the room, Dean’s pretty sure. “Wha’?” 

“Cas wants Meg as a third wheel… permanently. After begging me to marry his ass, again. The fucking shit’s a guy make a’ that, huh? ‘S fucked up, is what it’s.” 

“Well.. what’d ya’ say, Dean? To...marri— a wedding?” 

Dean sets his jaw and munches on a couple bits of pizza. “Said yes.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. When things ain’t so… up in the air. That I’d even haul dad’s ass to the ce-cere-... to the thing.” 

“Co-congratul-la-shi… congrats.” 

“Yeah. Hella’ of a thing, huh? But what the fuck do I do now?” 

“I dunno. Try to make it work?” 

“The fuck you talkin’ ‘bout Sammy, how can anyone make anything work with that… _that bitch?_ ” 

“She can’t be all bad. Listen, I’ve talked some with Meg over the past couple of months. I think you’re being way too hard on her. She told me about how you interrupted Cas from crossing the line when you got home. I had to work pretty damn hard to pry it out of her. And she just waved it off like it was _nothing_. That kind of loyalty ain’t easy to find, Dean. I think you know that better than anyone.” 

Dean spares a thought for his mother, then, of the long years of John’s abuse she’d endured for the sake of raising him and Sam, and hangs his head, a tear slipping out as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Y...yeah. You’re right, Sammy.” _Of course I know better than anyone. Because Cas was there for me with that whole mess with dad, too. Not to mention later when mom left._

Sam scrambles to a standing position, his tall frame making his sense of balance look more alarming than usual. Bones whines from his corner and Sam holds his hand up. 

“I’ll let you out in a sec. Dean,” Sam turns to his brother and smiles, “gotta kick you out man. I don’t think it’s gonna help things if you spend the night here. I’m gonna call you a cab.” 

Opening his mouth to protest, Dean manages one syllable when Sam holds his hand up at him to stop. 

“Nuh-uh. You’re going. Don’t matter you been drinking. Cas would rather see you home, I think.” 

Meg’s unexpected visit the other night distantly surfaces in Dean’s thoughts, but he can’t quite make the connection as Sam lets Bones go do his business. The cab gets to him quicker than he was expecting— _or maybe it’s a while?_ —and Dean finds himself in a full Moose hug before he’s allowed to step outside. 

“Love you man,” Sam says simply as he holds Dean close. 

If he’d been sober, Dean would have rolled his eyes. “Love you too.” 

“Give her... a chance.” 

***

 _Second night on this couch_ , Meg thinks to herself. She’s glad that she’d left some spare clothes and scrubs at Dean and Cas’s house, else she’d really be unimpressed with Dean right now. Cas is meant to be asleep upstairs, though Meg doubts he is, because he’d been pretty worried and upset when Dean hadn’t come home by 11 and hadn’t answered any of his calls or texts. 

Tires roll over tarmac, and a handbrake screeches outside. Meg sits up and listens to the progress of one of the vehicle’s occupants. Footsteps finally reach the front door and Meg is up and opening it before Dean can wake Cas if he just happens to have gotten to sleep. 

“Oh, Meg,” Dean greets in half surprise, face showing he’s unsure why she’s there in the first place. 

“In and stay quiet,” Meg orders, stepping out of Dean’s way. “Cas is upstairs trying to sleep.” 

The second Dean’s in Meg’s face, she smells the booze on his breath. The bitter irony of the night before greets her in full in the face and she shakes her head. 

“Good to know the rules don’t apply to you,” Meg mutters under her breath. 

“What’d you say?” Dean asks as he clumsily closes the front door behind him, making as much noise as seemingly possible without smashing the glass. 

“Nothing,” Meg sighs and then frowns as the sound of Cas walking down the stairs reaches her ears. 

Looking a little ghostly in a white Led Zeppelin t-shirt and gray sweats, Cas peers at them from the kitchen doorway. 

“Dean?” Cas asks gently. 

“Yeah! I’m home angel. C’mere.” 

Meg doesn’t think that’s such a great idea. “How about we go into the living room first and Cas gets you some water?” She looks to Cas to back her up and is greeted by a nod. 

“Fine,” Dean relents and Meg gently nudges him into the living room. There is no grace behind the way Dean’s butt connects with the couch. There’s an awkward moment as Meg is pulled down into Dean’s lap all of a sudden and he wraps his arms around her. 

“Sam said I should give you… a chance,” says Dean somewhere from the vicinity of Meg’s breasts. 

It’s at this moment that Cas walks in. Meg’s cheeks warm and she looks up at Cas, pleading with her eyes. 

“Yeah, he can get… yeah…” Cas walks over to the two of them, glass of water in hand. Meg can’t read the expression on his face, bar she doesn’t think it’s jealousy that’s making his brow crease and teeth chew his bottom lip. 

Choosing to realize that Cas is in the room, Dean looks up from his spot between Meg’s breasts and smiles at Cas. 

“Hey, you gonna join us?” Dean asks, voice deep and inviting, sending a shiver down Meg’s spine. Watching for Cas’s reaction, Meg sees Clarence stop biting his lip and instead lick them. 

_It’s like he’s being offered all the candy he can eat_ , Meg realizes as Cas sets the water down and clearly tries to make a choice. It’s clear Dean is the most amenable he’s been since he returned from Japan, _but that doesn’t mean Clarence wants to take advantage of the situation. C’mon, angel, you can make the right choice_. Meg keeps silent, hoping Castiel will make his own decision. 

Licking his lips again, Cas finally answers, “Actually… actually I think it’s time you drank that glass of water and we went to bed.” 

“Well, if you wanna—” 

“No, we’re going to sleep,” Cas replies, voice firm. 

“Okay, angel…” Dean’s hands finally come away from Meg and she stands, backing out of the way and then hands Dean his glass of water. 

Glancing at the water dumbly for a moment, Dean remembers what he’s meant to do with it and slowly drinks it down. Meg tries not to watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs. 

And still, Meg can feel that it’s going to be a long night. 

“You get Dean to bed… I’ll… I’ll stay down here,” Meg states simply, vaguely remembering the courtesy Dean had shown in not taking advantage of her the night before. 

***

Cassiel’s blade slides into her hand and she steps towards the alpha-werewolf, ignoring the way the light glints off of its massive teeth. There’s no hole in the floor, yet, but Cas’s dream memories are making him expect one to show up. Daley is still breathing and Cassiel hopes to keep it that way. 

Eyes locked with the beast, Cassiel isn’t sure how best to tackle it. 

Suddenly a roar rips out of the alpha-werewolf and its massive bulk pitches forward. Cassiel screams, dodging out of the way, rolling towards Daley and grabbing for her. The alpha-werewolf falls to where Cassiel had been standing just a moment before. A silver sword still vibrating halfway down its spine. 

In its place stands Martin, pleased grin on his face. He kneels down beside Cassiel and Daley, and Cassiel/Cas shivers. 

“It’ll stay dead this time,” Martin reassures in a deep voice, reaching a hand out to cup Cassiel’s cheek. “Let’s get somewhere safe.” 

Cassiel watches as Martin picks Daley up into his strong arms. Then he leans forward and kisses Cassiel while holding Daley. 

Dream fading, Cas opens his eyes to the early morning gloom that fills his and Dean’s bedroom. To his back is the solid form of Dean, hard-on pressing between his cheeks, easily felt through his thin sweats. And to Cas’s front is Meg, chest pressed up against his, lips near his own. 

He doesn’t remember when Meg joined them in bed. Half-memories of dreams and nightmares are all he can really recall of the short time he’s spent there since Dean came home. 

Dean shifts behind Cas and presses his hardness more firmly against him. Meg mutters something in her sleep and then leans in to kiss him softly. And yes, it’s too much for Cas to not respond to, moan rumbling out of his chest as his breaths begin to get faster. He had tried to show such restraint when Dean had returned, _I really did, please…_ Cas begs, unsure what he’s really asking for inside his head. 

A yelp comes from Meg as Cas hastily clambers down the mattress, bolts from the bed and sprints to the bathroom. Working his eyes open, Dean looks to the other side of the bed and sees a concerned Meg leaning on her arm, looking towards the bathroom door. Body still buzzing a little with booze, it takes Dean a moment to realize that Cas just shot out of bed and that there’s an extra body nearby. 

“Meg,” Dean says in a low voice, trying to keep his cool, “what are you doing here and what just happened?” 

“Cas just ran into the bathroom,” Meg looks Dean over and he feels naked despite his sweats and the covers, “because maybe we were being too much? And I’m here because he was crying out in his sleep earlier.” 

_Oh…_ a wave of guilt washes over Dean. The idea that he had been sleeping right beside Cas, but didn’t hear him because he was a selfish ass drunk— _like father, like son_ —Dean climbs out of the bed, only just then feeling his erection fading. _Fuck, I was…_ Reaching the bathroom door, Dean tries not to dwell on what his dream had been before he woke (Meg laughing under the hand he has over her mouth while he fucks her and Cas fucks him). 

“Hey,” Dean knocks on the door, “you okay in there, bud?” 

“Ummm….” 

“Let me in?” Dean asks, head beginning to thud dully with pain. The floorboards behind Dean shift and Meg comes to stand behind him. 

“No, I’ll…. I’ll be out shortly.” The door opens and a flushed Cas stands in the doorway. Eyes instinctively sweeping over Cas to check he’s not hurt, Dean can’t help noticing the tent inside Cas’s sweats. _Oh. A bit much, huh? This is…_  
Dean thinks for a moment, staring. _He showed restraint. Despite all the crap, Meg makes Cas feel like… like doing better_. 

Catching Dean looking, Cas turns away and his blush deepens. Stepping past Dean, Meg holds out a reassuring hand. 

“Sorry about…” Meg starts. 

Cas shakes his head, unable to meet either of their gazes, the bathroom tiles a seemingly endless source of fascination. _The last time I saw him this bashful must’ve been high school. Right before…_ Yes, Dean can see it now. 

The halting way Cas had reached out for his hand and laced their fingers together and just stared, huge-eyed, before Dean smiled at him and closed the distance. Things had gotten heavy in short order; it was the first time they’d had a make-out session. The fragment of memory makes his tongue feel thick in his mouth; Dean licks his lips and holds his hand out beside Meg’s. 

“C’mon, let’s put some coffee on,” Dean suggests, but Cas doesn’t grab just his hand, he puts one in Dean’s and one in Meg’s. 

For a moment, Dean waits to feel the sharp spike of jealousy in his gut, waits to see red, waits to feel the urge to hit something. None of it comes. There’s only a dull anger and residual shame for being too out of it to help Cas through the night. _Can I do this? Can I make it work with Meg?_ He takes a deep breath and lets it out silently through his nose. Maybe there’s a space carved out for Meg. _Maybe she’s already burrowed her way into our lives. Maybe._

Meg turns and so does Dean, expecting Cas to follow and then he pulls the two of them to him. They slam against each other and then Cas’s lips are on Dean’s and then not. Catching his breath, Dean watches Meg treated similarly before Cas pulls away. 

Chest rising and falling, Cas swallows. “Sorry, needed to—to do something. We can get coffee now.” 

***

Waiting for the coffee maker to finish filling its carafe, Meg half-fills a glass with water and pulls out the aspirin bottle. She’s trying not to overhear the phonecall that Dean is having with his boss. Not that the tone sounds like Dean’s having a hard time explaining that he needs to take a personal day in order to help with family. 

Looking over to Cas, Meg notices him fidgeting on his stool beside the breakfast counter. “Clarence?” She asks, stepping over to him. 

Huffing out a breath, Cas smiles at Meg, rubbing his thumbs into his palms. “I’m still a little… keyed up from earlier.” 

“I’m sorry for—” 

“Please… it was good.” 

Meg returns Castiel’s smile. _Yep, but time for a topic change. Need to talk about something else for now._ “Sooo, operation steaks and pie is happening today. Kevin’s gonna be by with groceries later this morning. Do you think you might want to hang out in the yard and talk comics and manga for a while?” 

It’s a simple suggestion to make. One that will give Dean the chance to privately call Missouri and see about getting Castiel the help he needs, but on Cas’s terms. No white padded rooms. That part was important, though Meg’s unsure how they can talk about Cas and how he’s really been without putting Meg in the line of fire. 

“Yes, that would be nice.” 

Hearing the coffee maker start spluttering and then hiss, Meg gives Cas another smile and then attends to it. _Yeah, Dean’s scrutiny is enough_ , but Meg realizes, as she pours the coffee into three mugs, _we’re going to have to serve up some truths_. There’s a small tightness in Meg’s chest as she tries not to think about the idea of leaving these two dorks before they’ve had a chance to try things out. _See how this works. If we fit together._

“Gimme some sugar,” Dean murmurs from somewhere by Meg’s left ear and she almost drops the coffee pot as she spins around. 

“Christ, Dean!” Meg curses and swats him away. “Go take some aspirin.” She points behind her at the glass and pill bottle she set out. Sighing, she looks at the coffee spilled on the floor. _Whatever_. 

“Yes, _nurse_.” Dean flashes a shit eating grin that Meg catches out of the corner of her eye. _What’s gotten him in such a good mood?_ But instead he grabs a tea towel and drops to all fours, ass high in the air as he sops up the mess. Meg stares for a moment before catching Cas’s amused gaze. Cas shakes his head and Meg rolls her eyes before ducking her head and smiling shyly. 

When she looks up again, Dean’s on his feet heading to the counter with the pills and water; he does as he’s told and downs some aspirin. His stomach rumbles and he walks over to where Cas is sat. The whole of Dean is clamoring for him to make it up to Cas, for earlier and he can see that he’s still feeling the need for something. Spinning Cas around on his stool, Dean slots himself between Cas’s legs and wraps his arms around him. 

The kiss he gives is featherlight: tentative. Dean feels Cas hesitate for a moment, senses Meg’s eyes upon them. And then Cas takes control of the kiss, pressing in harder, tongue pushing at Dean’s lips and he opens to Cas. Dean pulls away, the tiniest distance between them. 

“You were such a good boy earlier,” Dean whispers to Cas. There’s a timid nod from Cas in reply. He knows his angel is going to feel a little uneasy, this happening in the kitchen, but Dean wants to carry out a simple plan. 

Holding his hand out towards Meg, Dean motions her over. Going on dates would be one thing, but Cas deserves a reward and Dean needs to know, on a visceral level if this is something he wants. _No point in doing the courting thing if the three of us can’t play together without it ending in the unhappy kind of tears._

Meg brings two of the mugs over and sets them down on the breakfast counter. Sliding out from between Castiel’s legs, Dean ignores the whimper that causes, clasping Meg’s hands. He meets Cas’s owl-huge stare and shuffles Meg towards Cas. 

“You, sweetheart, can go here.” Dean ushers Meg between Cas’s legs and then steps up behind her, pushing against her rear and pushing her against Cas. “And I can go here.” 

Brushing fingertips down Meg’s sides, Dean reaches forward and brings Castiel’s hands to rest on Meg’s hips. Feeling Meg’s short breaths, the way her body trembles in anticipation, Dean lets himself feel a tinge of excitement too. _But I need to know we’re on solid footing._

As he leans in and brushes his lips against Meg’s neck, Dean’s voice is low. “Are you okay with this? With both of us?” The question is for both Meg and Cas. 

“I thought we were going to try dating?” Meg replies, on the verge of laughter. 

“Uh-huh,” Dean rests his hands on top of Castiel’s still on Meg’s hips. 

“But?” Cas asks quietly. 

Dean chews on his lip for a moment and looks Cas in the eyes. “I need to know: is this kosher?” 

Cas breathes out a long breath and nods. “Yes.” 

“Sure. If you two idiots will have me: then yes.” 

“And… are you cool with Cas and I getting married?” Dean looks between the two of them. 

“I dunno… I just...” Meg begins and Dean can see her struggling, her shoulders going tense as she tries to decide what to say. “I don’t… I don’t want to be some experiment you two cooked up before you get married. You both…” Meg sighs and clears her throat, “give me things that I was sorely missing in my life and I want to stick it out for the long haul. 

“Just don’t ever ask me to say anything so sappy again or I will find new and unpleasant ways to torment male nipples.” The tension is gone from Meg’s shoulders now. 

Cas scrutinizes Dean. “And you, Dean? Are you really on board, with the three of us together?” Cas asks, sounding bolder. But also Dean can hear the concern there, more of his old Cas that gives a damn. 

“After some,” Dean smirks and coughs, “ _hot coffee_ with a happy ending, think I’ll make it out okay.” Dean treats them both to his shit eating grin and then leans over Meg to kiss Cas, bringing their hands up to cup Meg’s left breast. 

Cas moans into his mouth the second Dean licks his way in and Meg nuzzles at the side of Cas’s face. Their nurse whimpers appreciatively as they massage her through her clothes and Dean grinds up against her. Wetly, Dean pulls away from kissing Cas and encourages Meg to take his place. While the two of them explore each other’s mouths with tongues, Dean sucks on Meg’s neck and slides his hand away from Castiel’s and down and around to the front. 

Pushing past the elastic of Meg’s scrubs and panties, Dean’s fingers seek out the heat between Meg’s legs. Sliding two digits in between Meg’s folds, Dean’s surprised to find out how wet she is. 

Mouth coming off of Meg’s neck, Dean hums and asks, “Cas, want me to see if I can get little Megan here to come?” 

The way Dean sounds is doing things to Meg, pushing control away. Fingers already grazing along her wetness back and forth. 

“Yes.” And Cas is on Meg again, swallowing a needy cry. 

“Mmm, yeah, there you go…” Dean pushes two fingers inside of Meg and rubs her clit with the heel of his hand. Meg arches a little and Cas groans as he presses into her, rubbing his hardening cock on her thigh. It’s so _different_ from any sexual encounter Meg’s had with either of them that it makes her head spin. 

“Yeah, you like that?” Dean murmurs into her ear, and Meg shivers, struggling to keep up as Cas attacks her mouth. 

“C-Cas…” Meg moans, and Cas backs off a little, looking at her with eyes dark with lust. 

“Yes?” 

“Why don’t you get on your knees and show Dean what you learned while he was away?” 

Dean shudders against her, pressing his erection into the meaty curve of her ass. “Shit, yeah. How ‘bout it, Cas? Gonna show us both what a good boy you can be? Gonna eat her dripping pussy around my soaked fingers as I keep fucking her? Huh?” 

With a whimper, Meg fumbles her pants fully undone while Cas drops to his knees so hard it sounds painful. 

“Yes, yes please…” Cas whispers, hauling Meg’s pants down her legs. 

“Nuh-uh,” Dean bats at one of Cas’s hands, “slow. Real slow. Give that soft little thigh a nice stroke.” 

Meg squirms, wondering how in the hell she’s still standing. _Maybe I’m only being supported by Dean’s fingers. Like a frigging ventriloquist’s dummy. A kinky dummy. Hahahaha—_ Meg gasps at the caress of Cas’s long fingers. 

“There you are. There’s a good boy. Give that pretty pussy a nice little kiss, okay?” Dean says before kissing Meg’s neck and starting to suck into the join between neck and shoulder. 

Cas can feel Dean’s stare burning into him from where he’s kneeling on the floor. He meets his fiance’s shining gaze and licks his lips before leaning forward. He can clearly see Dean’s fingers disappearing in and out of Meg, see them glistening, her short hairs matted with fluid; a burst of her feminine scent, earthy with a hint of ocean hits his nose, makes Cas’s mouth water. He drops a soft kiss on where her clit is pressing out between her lips, opening up, being slowly but surely being tugged apart as Dean’s fingers fuck her open. 

Hissing, Meg flinches back into Dean. “Oh fuck. Please Cas, more. Jesus.” 

“Go on, Cas. Make out with our greedy little slut’s pussy until it’s running down her leg.” 

A snatch of _the lemon song_ flits across Dean’s head, but with a mental shake, he ignores it. 

Cas gets to work and it is _exquisite_. It only takes a couple of minutes of Cas and Dean working Meg over while she gropes at Dean’s cock through his pants before she comes hard, nearly falling over, mostly kept upright by one of Dean’s hands and the two Cas has on her hips. 

“Oh yeah, look at that. Look at our plaything tossing her hair and chewing on her lip. Nice, huh? Good boy, Cas,” Dean husks. “What do you say you find out if we’re two great tastes that taste great together, huh? And Meg, you give our angel a reward, sit on his dick? Sound good?” 

“Oh fuck, yes—” Meg moans while Cas starts crawling towards Dean. 

Just then, the doorbell rings. 

_Ha! You were too late this time, door! I got off! I beat your game!_ Meg snickers to herself while Dean side-eyes her and Cas frowns up at her. 

“Nothing. Hey, I think Kevin’s here.” 

“Fuck. Okay. I’m gonna—.... Thing.” 

“What, hide in the bathroom until your boner goes away? Who’s gonna get the door? Clearly not me….” Meg gestures at her sex hair before pulling her pants and underwear back up. 

Cas sighs and rubs at his mouth. “I guess that leaves me firmly in the “responsible adult” category.” 

“I’ll make it up to you later,” Dean says, handing him a tea towel and his now cold cup of coffee before hitting the bathroom off the kitchen. 

“Ditto.” Meg heads to the upstairs bathroom to tidy up. 

Wiping at his mouth before downing his coffee to cover up Meg’s sweet scent, Cas adjusts himself in his sweatpants to make things look less obvious. Not that there’s much left to hide after the anxiety from answering the door in this state hit him.


	36. Chapter 36

Condensation runs down Castiel’s fingers as he holds his can of grape soda. The sun is shining on Kevin and him, lunch a few hours away, as they sit in the front yard on a throw. Cheeks red and lips swollen, Cas hadn’t had a chance to even put a comb through his hair after what had happened in the kitchen. He tries to keep his mind away from what happened, but every other moment his thoughts slip and he can feel Meg pressing into him, hear the pleased noises that Dean made— 

“So, I was thinking of starting a comics and graphic novel group. Vanessa and Francis said that I can use the cafe as a meeting space. We’d talk about what we’re reading… anything we’re working on,” Kevin suddenly spills and then takes a nervous sip from his soda. 

Attention snapping back to being in the front yard and friend, Cas nods and takes a sip of his own soda. “That sounds like—” 

“And we’d have artists, writers, colorists, inkers and letterers come in and talk about their work,” Kevin cuts in and then voice going small, “and would you be one of our first guest speakers? I’m sure plenty of people would like to hear about Preternatural.” 

A car drives by and Cas sits there in silence. Kevin’s words hang in front of Cas, taking their time to sink in. _Me… talk to people? About Preternatural?_ It wasn’t going to Comic-Con, it was just a tiny cafe in his neighborhood. To a place he’d had brunch at just the day before. 

Glancing to Kevin, Cas swallows and takes a deep breath. “M-maybe I could. You may have to wait some time… but I am interested,” Cas manages, tongue feeling a little thick in his mouth. He sip his soda again. 

“Sure, sure. There’s no rush,” Kevin reassures. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that.” 

Soda can empty, Cas dangles it between his fingers. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before Dean’s arranging a full social calendar for me,” Cas replies and it takes him a moment to realize just how bitter and resentful he sounds.  
“Sorry, Kevin, I didn’t mean it like that.” Cas rubs at his forehead. 

“No, no, it’s cool. Once you’re heading out more, there’s probably gonna be a lot of people who will want to meet up with you. I know Pamela misses you coming to her store.” Kevin gives Cas a grateful smile, trying to show him that there’s no hard feelings. 

_Pamela…_ Cas can smell the charcoal, cool and burned, feel the sting of turpentine fumes on the back of his throat. Cas had enjoyed stopping by Pamela’s small art store. Not that he can say that its proprietor had enjoyed the way he would look at the pencils display for half an hour at a time, unsure which brand he wanted to give a chance that week. But Pamela would talk to him, tell him what she saw him doing. Like the charcoals she’d imported all the way from a willow growers in a tiny corner of England that turned their willow into furniture or charcoal? Pamela saw Cas drawing Dean with those, showing the pure sparkle in his beloved eyes when he smiled. 

_I wonder if she still has any boxes left?_ Cas ponders to himself, shoulders drawn up as he contemplates the potential for more adventures. His eyes fall upon the eucalyptus tree and his favorite branch calls to him. 

Getting to his feet, Cas abandons his soda can to the blanket and starts walking over to the tree. 

“Hey, Cas, what’s—” 

Jumping, Cas grasps the smooth bark and hangs in the air, the building tension draining out by his feet. He can hear Kevin padding down the lawn towards him as he kicks off his sneakers and uses his big toes to drag his socks off his feet. 

In the distance, Cas can hear Kevin, but he doesn’t take it in. His pulse calms and the strain on his muscles grounds him, Cas is only aware of his breathing, heartbeat and smoothness of the warming bark. 

Dean’s just putting his cell back in his pocket when Kevin wanders into the living room, expression confused and concerned. Meg can be heard in the kitchen, putting things away. 

“Hey, Cas has climbed a tree in the yard,” Kevin states. 

Dean rubs at the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. That’s a thing he does now. Though I gotta say this makes a change from hanging there at six in the morning.” 

Kevin frowns. 

“Seriously, it’s nothing to worry about.” Dean grins. 

“Okay, well I need to head back to the store. Have a nice rest of the day.” Kevin waves and heads off out. 

Dean watches Kevin’s progress down the front yard and chuckles when he sees Cas wave to him one-handed. His angel was starting to put some muscle on again and Dean’s mind begins to slip to places he doesn’t have time for right now. 

Missouri is coming to visit, with Gabriel footing the bill for the callout, and Dean still smells like he was recently doing less than sanitary things in his kitchen. 

***

Fresh scrubs on, hair tied back, Meg watches Cas run a fork through the pie crust mixture that they’ve measured into a large glass bowl. The flour, butter and salt resembling crumbs. Several rooms away, in the closed doors of Cas’s office, Meg knows that Dean is talking to Missouri and seeing what they can do for Cas at home. 

Missouri will want to talk to Cas eventually, but for now Meg doesn’t say or do anything that’s going to take away the sense of calm that’s settled over Cas. Keeping at a friendly distance, Meg glances again at the recipe she found, scrolling through it on her phone. 

“I think it’s ready for the water,” says Cas. 

Getting close enough to peer into the mixing bowl, Meg sees the roughly shaped crumbs the mixture has become. “You’re right. Grab the measuring spoons and pick out the,” Meg checks the recipe, “tablespoon sized one. We need five spoonfuls of the cold water.” 

Meg watches Cas pick up the measuring spoons and follow through with her instructions, every movement slow and deliberate. The entire process of making the pie has been like that so far, from measuring out cups of flour to pulling out the bowl and utensils that they needed.  
_This pie’s serious business_ , Meg concludes as Cas finishes stirring the water in. 

Standing back as Cas lightly flours the counter, Meg watches as Cas perfectly recalls the instructions she earlier gave about splitting up the dough and rolling it out. Meg knows Cas doesn’t cook or bake, but as she watches the movement of his hands on the rolling pin, she wonders if Cas is mimicking what Dean would do when making a pie. 

Maybe if Meg was someone else she’d think the careful movement of Cas’s hands mechanical as they work. To her though, the measured pursuit of perfection looks like tenderness. A part of her wishes Dean could see this. 

Switching from the recipe on her cell, she pulls up her camera app, moves the cell and points it at Cas. Going into movie mode and pressing record, Meg doesn’t tell Cas what she’s doing and he’s too focused to notice what she’s doing. Cas’s brows are drawn together as he goes about his task and once the two crusts are rolled, he partially rolls the dough of one onto his pin and then lines a nearby pan with it. 

The pie’s filling is ready to go in a separate bowl, the apples already sliced and seasoned with cinnamon, brown sugar, and a generous squeeze of lemon. Bringing the bowl over to the waiting pie shell, Cas looks over to Meg and notes the cell pointed out him. 

“I would say take a picture, it would last longer, but apparently you’re already on top of that,” Cas deadpans as he begins to scoop the filling on top of the dough in the pan. 

“Actually, I’m filming. Gonna get Dean as close to the action as possible.” 

Castiel blushes a little at that. “At least he’ll believe I made this.” He starts dotting the filling with butter. 

Meg continues filming until Cas has wrestled the pie into the waiting oven. Just as the door snaps shut, Missouri calls from the living room. “Castiel, you able to come in here a while?” 

“Um, sure. Just give me a moment,” Cas replies and washes his hands. He gives Meg an apologetic look tinged with nervous energy. “Would—” 

“I’ll clean up after you. Go on.” 

Cas gives a determined nod and heads off towards the living room just as Dean walks in. Suppressing a giggle, Meg can’t believe how cute Cas looks as he leans in and gives Dean a passing kiss on the cheek and heads into the living room. 

Meg hears Missouri say, “Hello, young man. Why don’t you show me your office, Castiel?” and then Dean’s taking up her sight. 

“Something smells awesome,” Dean states, pleased grin on his face. He wraps his arms around Meg’s waist and presses a kiss to the back of her neck. 

“Yes it does. Shame you’re not getting any,” Meg teases as she slips out of his embrace to start clean up. _Trust your mind to be on food._

“Not even the steaks in the refrigerator?” 

“Not even the steaks.” 

Dean leans against the counter beside Meg. “I don’t believe you.” 

“Believe me, don’t believe me, but only Cas can reveal the truth,” Meg replies, smirk on her face. 

***

Serving up the steaks alongside hand cut fries and salad, Cas struggles with the slight sense of relief that’s clawing at him. The weight that’s been lifted from him today is only minor and there’s still much to be chipped away in order for him to get better… But saying that he needed help? And admitting to Missouri that some things had gotten worse? It wasn’t a cure, but saying things out loud—well, some things—had made him feel a little better, though he was having to ignore the small voice that kept saying over and over, “It’ll happen again.” 

Having made both Meg and Dean sit down at their small table, Cas brings their plates out first and sets them down. Medium rare steaks all round. 

“Cas, when did you learn—” 

“Meg helped,” Cas says before Dean can ask when he learned how to cook. It had all seemed simpler following Meg’s directions and recalling what he’d seen Dean do in the past. Far easier than the few times he had tried cooking by himself. 

Dean had suspected that Meg had helped, but he was still amazed with how much Cas had managed to do. _Definitely a step up from PB &J_, Dean thinks as he waits for Cas to sit down. 

“I hope I prepared it correctly,” says Cas as he takes his seat. 

“The way this is smelling? Pretty damn sure you did.” Dean picks up his steak knife and fork and cuts himself a sliver of the meat. The knife slides through the meat easily along the grain, revealing a just this side of pink red centre. When Dean pops the piece of steak in his mouth and chews, the perfectly salted tender morsel practically melts in his mouth. 

“Dean, it’s a steak, not a blow job,” Meg shoots. 

Face turning red as he realizes what kinds of noises he was just making, Dean looks guiltily between Cas and Meg. He swallows. “It’s good.” 

“I’m glad you approve, Dean. But I would really appreciate it if we didn’t have to cut dinner short to act on the sounds you’re making.” Cas cuts into his own steak. 

_You little—_ “I’m just saying, it’s a damn good steak. Man should be allowed to appreciate such fine cooking.” 

“Mmm-hmm. Well, save making those noises for when I blow you later,” Cas shoots back and just there, just in those words, Dean can hear a nervous edge. The Cas that comes out to play when he needs to take control for reasons beyond just simple pleasure. 

Dean can practically hear Meg’s eyes bug out of her head. 

“Cas,” says Dean in his “cool-it-man” voice, “the food’s awesome. Let’s just eat.” _C’mon man, you can do this._

 _ _“O-okay.” Cas nods and backs down. Dean watches Cas take his first bite of steak and chew. “Not… bad,” Cas manages.__

 _ _

His angel is trying to get better, even now without the new meds and counselling regime that Cas will be starting soon. It was a lot to take in, what had been discussed with Missouri, but they have a new plan. They’re gonna work to it. Keep at it. _We’re gonna get married_ , Dean reassures himself as they finish their steaks, _and Meg’s… Meg’s gonna be a part of this and we’re gonna get there._

In the meantime, Dean can’t help the noises he makes once he gets his first slice of apple pie. 

“I’m only human!” Dean cries as Cas and Meg look at him with shocked eyes. “It’s good pie!” 

Cas doesn’t quip back like he did earlier. He’s smiling shyly, with a slight adorable blush tinging his cheeks. 

“Hey there.” Dean strokes Cas’s cheek gently. Cas darts a look up to meet his gaze, and is hit with a swell of love at the naked adoration there. “I dunno what I did, but thanks.” A soft press of lips later, Dean is reaching across the table to squeeze Meg’s hand.  
“You too, babygirl.” Both of them blush at the endearment as Dean continues, “Good team effort.” 

“Nah,” Meg smirks, “that was earlier.” With a wink, she gives a squeeze back and continues eating her dinner. 

***

Later, the three of them are finally curled around each-other in bed, bare sweat covered flesh so entangled it’s nearly impossible to say where one ends and another begins. The smell of sex hangs heavy in the air as Cas pants into Dean’s neck. Dean’s face is buried between Meg’s spread legs while she looks on with fascinated arousal as Cas slowly fucks Dean. 

He was trying very hard to be patient and considerate, given that he didn’t want to drive Dean’s chin into Meg inadvertently and that Dean hadn’t had anything larger than his own fingers up there in months. 

“Do you feel good, Beloved?” 

“Oh God, yes, Cas. Fucking Christ,” comes Dean’s muffled reply into Meg’s thigh. 

“And you, kitten?” 

Meg’s quivering, eyes rolling up into her head. “Fucking _beautiful_ tongue, God, can’t we just have him do this and never use his mouth for anything else again?” 

Making a noise of protest, Dean jams three fingers into Meg, startling a yelp out of her. 

“Just for that… turn around. Get under Dean. You can have our balls on your face while you and Dean pleasure each-other,” Cas orders. 

Meg complies.

__


	37. Chapter 37

Three massive canvases stand side by side at the back of the hotel ballroom. Eight feet tall by six feet wide. Collectively they form one image in charcoal: Dean and Castiel laid out, cuddling. Naked. With Cas on top and Dean underneath. It’s on loan from a gallery downtown that had chosen to exhibit it. Though it isn’t for sale as it’s Castiel’s wedding gift to Dean. 

Meg had taken the photo that Cas had based it on. 

“Being best man, I’d like to propose a toast to our two grooms today. I…” Sam pauses and Meg feels a pang of sympathy as he composes himself, “never thought we’d see the day. These two have been stuck on each other for so long, I figured they’d be in an old folks’ home rocking diapers before they said “I do”.” 

A small laugh bubbles out of Meg and she’s not the only one fighting back a giggle or two. She catches Kevin grinning from ear-to-ear as Sam speaks, Gabriel shaking his head in mock disbelief. Both have their lips pursed as they try to retain some sense of decorum. 

“But we’re here. They’re here. Together. And I am so glad to gain another brother today, even if it feels like we’ve been brothers for over a decade already. Here,” Sam raises his glass, “to the groom and groom.” 

Meg takes a mouthful of champagne and swallows it down. She’s already feeling a little tipsy from having gotten through two glasses of champagne during Dean and Cas’s speeches. With what is probably a dopey smile, she looks over at Cas, beaming with pride. _He’s come so far_. Meeting Dean’s gaze, they share identical looks of pride. _We did this. Together. Cas is out surrounded by people, the literal centre of attention, with his soul-baring artwork on display. It’s too bad his parents got lost doing missionary work all those years ago._

The DJ calls the grooms to the dancefloor and Meg watches them go, a sense of pride swelling inside her. Dean looks over his shoulder and gives Meg an excited smile before focusing on Cas. 

A lot has happened over the past year, but as Dean and Cas take to the dancefloor, hand-in-hand, Dean hopes Cas remembers to let him take the lead. Despite a month of dance lessons and Meg practicing with Cas here and there, Cas would still— _still_ —on occasion take the lead. 

Groomsman suits brushing against each other—the light gray fabric shapely cut and making Dean wonder if maybe he might sequester Cas in a closet or bathroom after their first dance—Cas lets Dean take the lead as Electric Light Orchestra’s “Long Black Road” starts playing. _Thank fuck for that_ , Dean thinks to himself as he smiles at Cas and begins to move them around the dancefloor as the bouncy bass carries them along. 

“They used to tell me boy you ain't goin' nowhere. With your cheap guitar and your big long hair. You gotta realize all your responsibilities. You gotta get out to work and face reality…” sings Jeff Lynne. 

Sweeping Cas around the wooden floor, Dean knew that the two of them hadn’t chosen a happy song. Sure Cas had been improving; Meg had moved in with them; Dean had had a promotion; Cas had shifted his focus and his art was finding interest from buyers; Meg had been able to become Cas’s manager and agent... And so what if Dean had made Cas come once that morning and Meg five times? 

Even if everything is seemingly going their way did not mean that Cas and Dean had wanted to avoid mention of the journey through Hell that had brought them to this day. 

“You gotta get up in the morning take your heavy load. And you gotta keep goin' down the long black road…” As the chorus repeats, Dean catches John Winchester bobbing his head along to the music. The sight of his dad looking like he might be vaguely enjoying himself almost makes Dean lose his concentration and he stumbles slightly. 

Covering his mistake, Dean suddenly leans in and kisses Cas as they dance. Their audience starts whooping and clapping. More bodies file onto the floor and join them as the kiss ends. Cas tastes of the scotch they’d both shared an hour before the ceremony when their nerves had reached their peak. Meg had smuggled a flask to them while Sam had been preoccupied with finding Bones. Gabriel had been helping Sam and so Dean hadn’t felt bad trying his best not to freak out. 

_You tell yourself you’re not gonna freak out, that it’s just words, rings, a piece of paper, dancing, booze and cake…_ Dean thinks to himself as the song finishes and Cas is smiling at him for the fiftieth time today. _And then you remember you just said yes to spending the rest of your life with this dork, and fuck, Dean Winchester what you agreed to? You don’t—_

“You’re thinking too much,” Cas murmurs. They step off the dance floor and head over to the head table, where Meg is waiting for them, dressed in a deep purple sleeveless, backless dress. 

Cas is leading the way now and Dean feels his stomach flip as Cas motions for Meg to follow them. Toasts would start soon, but Dean tries to ignore Sam rolling his eyes at them as the three of them head out of the ballroom. Oh sure, Sam and Gabriel both knew about Meg, Cas and Dean, but that didn’t mean they were free to just head into the nearest restroom without repercussions. Sam rolling his eyes is to be expected. _At least Gabe hasn’t seen us, right?_ Dean hopes as they lock themselves into the restroom. 

“Dean’s been thinking too much again,” Cas says in a calm, authoritative voice. “Would you be a dear and help him with that?” 

“Mmm, maybe you should?” Meg purrs back, hand palming Dean through his dress slacks. 

“Megan, if you kiss him up here,” Cas pushes a finger inside Dean’s mouth and Dean is eagerly sucking at it within seconds, “then we’ll have to worry about your lipstick.” 

“Good point.” Meg slides down Dean’s body and pulls up her skirts so she can kneel in front of him. Dean gets a glimpse of Meg winking and then Cas is pulling out his finger, and replacing it with his tongue. 

Another song is starting up in the ballroom, the chords distantly vibrating through the walls. Ears pricking at the sound of his zipper being pulled down and his fly opened, Dean feels a breeze as his slacks and underwear are dragged downwards. Dean moans loudly into Castiel’s mouth the moment Meg’s hand is on his hot hardening length and pulling him into her waiting mouth. 

Cas is making Dean lightheaded with his kisses—so hard and deep he’s literally breathless. Tongues winding together, Dean huffs out short breaths through his nose and holds onto Meg’s head. It’s a struggle to keep still and let Meg devour him the way she wishes when all he wants is to snap his hips forward over and over until she gags. His patience is rewarded when he feels the back of her throat; the cry that rips through him is hardly muted by Cas. 

Pulling away momentarily, Cas looks Dean in the eyes and licks his kiss swollen lips. “You’re going to come for us Dean. Show Megan what a good job she’s doing and paint over that pretty red lipstick with your spend. Understand?” 

Wet warmth encircles Dean and continues to drag him down. Cas and Meg are tearing apart his composure with their actions screaming at him to spill. Every suck, each kiss, tongues working him in tandem. Cas suddenly grabs at his hair and yanks Dean closer, sealing their mouths together. Meg’s tongue slides over and around his slit each time she bobs up. 

Trembling and weak, Dean’s muscles give out on him as he comes hard in Meg’s mouth and shouts into Cas’s. His husband holds him up as their girlfriend swallows all of him. Vision disappearing for a moment, Dean can’t help the whimper he gives as Cas kisses him gently while Meg cleans up his oversensitized cock, licking him clean. 

Pressing their foreheads together, Cas smiles at Dean. “I don’t think you came this morning.” 

Shuffling together the memories he had of getting ready before heading to the courthouse, and how the three of them had ended up together and interrupted by the front door bell— 

“You’re right, I didn’t, but what about—” 

“It’s fine,” Cas gives Dean a mischievous look. “There’s always later.” 

Meg nods. “And we probably should head back.” 

Glancing down at Meg’s smeared lipstick, Dean winces. “You might, uh—you know—” he waves in a vague circle around his mouth 

“Oh. Crap. Color-stay my ass!” 

Dean chuckles while Cas sighs, glaring at Dean a little as he bends down with the handkerchief that was in his breast pocket. He attentively cleans around Meg’s mouth while she blushes. 

“Thanks, Cas.” 

“My pleasure.” 

“Nah, mine.” Dean smirks and Meg sticks her tongue out at him. 

“You suck.” 

“Yeah, on occasion. When the mood calls for it.” Dean winks and saunters off, leaving a laughing Meg and Cas behind. 

“Dipshit!” Meg calls behind him. 

Dean waves over his shoulder without looking back. “Takes one to know one.” 

“I swear if the two of you don’t murder each-other in your sleep one of these days, it’s going to be me killing you both.” Cas kisses a grinning Meg on the nose. 

***

Standing next to their father, towering over him, Sam tries to remain civil. It’s mentally draining to check everything he wants to say before it leave his lips. John’s mood has varied wildly over the day and it’s been tough to keep up with it—knowing when to sooth, knowing when to back off. 

“I hope you’ve got a pretty little lady tucked away as your intended,” John states, eyes trained on the dance floor as Cas, Dean and Meg dance to Jefferson Airplane’s “Need Somebody to Love”. 

“Uhhhhh…” Sam tries to figure out how he should respond to that. There’s no way he can just come out and say: _by the way, dad, I’m still a virgin and prefer walking my dog to the idea of sticking my dick in anyone, anytime soon_. 

“It’s not like those two are going to be continuing the Winchester family line.” John sighs and then looks up at Sam. “Say, what happened with that… sweet girl you were seeing in college? Jess?” 

A hand lands on Sam’s shoulder and he looks down and over to see Gabe beside him and genuinely looking concerned for his wellbeing. 

“Sorry, Mister Winchester, I need to borrow Sam here.” And before any protests can be made, Gabe drags Sam away from his father and to safety. 

“Um, thanks?” Sam offers as Gabe presses a beer bottle into his hand. Gabe had hidden them to the side of the DJ booth, out of Winchester senior’s view. 

“Don’t mention it, kiddo.” Gabe gives Sam a smile and Sam can’t help smiling back. 

Stealers Wheel’s “Stuck in the Middle with You” kicks up and Sam chuckles at the way Dean and Cas have got their arms around Meg as they dance. Taking a sip of his beer, Sam looks to Gabe again and nervously smiles. 

“I couldn’t have answered his question anyway. I—” 

“You don’t have to tell me anything or explain yourself to me.” Gabe nods and sips his own beer. 

Sam hadn’t been expecting that. Staying quiet, he just let their companionable silence grow as they both people watched. Now that Sam thought about it, he’d never known Gabe to seriously date anyone and he wondered if maybe the two of them weren’t that dissimilar after all. 

Dean, Meg and Cas end the song very close together and surreptitiously look around themselves before heading out of the ballroom again. Sam laughs and shakes his head. 

“What’s so funny?” Gabe asks following Sam’s gaze and then shaking his head. 

“If only dad knew… I wouldn’t put it past those three, y’know, trying to start a family at some point.” 

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Gabe and Sam looks over at him. “I’m not sure I can imagine those three being parents,” says Gabe. 

“They might be pretty good at it.” 

“Yeah, but their kids will end up with a terrible taste in music.” 

Sam playfully punches Gabe’s shoulder in reply and that earns him a “do you really want to try this now” sort of look. Backing off, hands raised, Sam smirks and says, “Well at least their kids won’t be short.” 

Who knew Gabe would be able to get Sam into a neck hold and noogie him? 

***

 _Are we even going to have any energy left for when we get back to our room?_ Meg ponders, checking her hair is still up, pushing her way back into the ballroom. The DJ is still going strong, though she’s not entirely sure of his choice of playing “I Am The Walrus” by The Beatles. 

“And just what are you doing?” Bella calls to Meg from the bar as Meg makes her way back into the ballroom, still pulling her dress back into place. 

Whirling round to face Bella, Meg smiles and walks over so that their entire private conversation doesn’t have to be heard by the rest of the reception guests. “Keep it down or I’m cutting you off.” 

Peering down at her glass of red wine, Bella looks back up and frowns. “That would be totally unfair at this juncture. Just how am I meant to enjoy what passes for dancing between you and your… paramours, if I have no booze?” 

Meg rests her back against the bar and takes in Dean and Cas as they re-enter the ballroom and stalk over to the head table. “Are you saying we’re bad dancers?” 

“No… I’m just worried for you, Meg. I mean, those two may have gotten married here today and I know you’ve never told me outright, but I am fully aware that you’re all together.” Bella finishes the last dregs in her glass and pours herself some more from a bottle on the bar. 

Despite her closeness to Bella, Meg hadn’t felt the desire to divulge how things had progressed since Cas’s lowest point. She couldn’t hide from Bella that she had become heavily involved in Cas and Dean’s lives, but Meg had not wanted to admit this to her. To admit that she had fallen for these two men to someone like Bella seemed like she would be admitting she’s weak. 

“I think, if, and only _if_ , they’re treating you right… then it’s okay, what you have,” Bella continues. 

Meg sighs. “They do. It’s… been rough getting here, but I am happier than I have been in a long time.” 

Memories of the past year begin to surface, but Meg refuses to dwell on them. Especially when she catches Dean and Cas looking back at her like they hadn’t just all gotten out of the restroom. _Damnit, I will get back to you two in a minute!_ Meg says with her eyes and the set of her jaw. 

A hand lands on Meg’s shoulder and she looks up into Bella’s concerned gaze. “How does this even work?” 

A smile breaks onto Meg’s face. “Oh it works. Works in ways you probably don’t want to or can’t imagine, sweet stuff.” 

“Okay, you are banned from ever calling me “sweet stuff”.” Bella takes a glug of her wine. “You’re going on honeymoon with them, aren’t you?” 

This is Meg’s cue to return to her boys again. “No comment.” Meg pushes away from the bar and takes a couple of steps forward. She stops and looks over shoulder back to Bella. “We work together and that’s what matters.” 

***

Happy, blushing exterior on show to everyone there, Cas puts a lot of effort into not just freaking out as he sits at the head table for a chance to compose himself. Tries to ignore the dozens and dozens of eyes that might be looking at him. There’s a glass of champagne at his elbow and he doesn’t recognize the music the DJ has put on. 

“So, kiddo, whatcha got planned for the honeymoon?” Gabe needles, sitting down beside Cas and picking up the glass of champagne that Cas is ignoring. 

“Like I have told you before… We’re heading to Malibu for a week,” Cas says slowly, still trying to keep himself in check. 

“And Meg, right?” Gabe says, tone a little lower so no one else will hear him except Cas. 

Turning to Gabe, Cas glares at his older brother. “Right,” Cas replies stiffly. 

“Hey, now, what’s up?” Gabe asks and reaches out to place a hand on Cas’s shoulder. 

Trembling, Cas tries to take a few deep breaths, but all he can think of are the people crowding in the ballroom with him. He’s still not sure how they came up with such an extensive guest list, but right now he’s unsure he wants to be near them. _I don’t know who half these people are_ , Cas thinks, body shakes becoming more pronounced. _And the way John keeps staring over at me like I’m the worst thing that ever happened to his family…_

“Okay amigo, time to get you some air.” Gabe stands and Cas lets him pull him up out of his chair and lead him towards a set of French doors that open out onto a patio. 

Cas must blank out at some point, because he doesn’t remember stepping outside or Sam, Meg and Dean joining them. Blinking in the darkening evening light, Cas stares up at the four of them, his ass firmly planted on the ground. 

“Clarence, you with us again?” Asks Meg as she crouches down in front of Cas, basic first aid skills seeming to kick in. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” 

“You’ve got nothing, _nothing_ , to apologize for,” Dean says, crouching down beside Meg. 

Meg places the back of her warm hand against Cas’s chilled, sweat slicked forehead and he suddenly realizes he is cold. He starts to shiver, despite of the warmth of the evening. His suit jacket is back inside. 

“You know, I think there’s some wedding cake left, I’ll go get some,” Gabe announces with Sam quickly following after him. 

“It’s been a long day,” Dean soothes, warm hand stroking against his cheek and grounding him there. “We can go soon if you want.” 

“What about your gift?” Cas asks, thoughts jumbling together despite Dean’s soothing hand. There’s quick footsteps as Sam returns. 

“Sam’s helping the gallery with it, remember?” Meg reaches up behind her and Cas is vaguely aware Sam handing her his jacket. She pulls it over his shoulders. 

Gabe’s back and he hands Dean a plated slice of wedding cake and a fork. Cas is being babied left right and center—especially as Dean helps Cas to eat some of the cake—but Cas doesn’t mind. New Cas understands why people try to look after him, recalls Missouri’s advice and insight and lets it happen. Welcomes the love that underlines these actions. 

“Dean,” Cas starts shyly. 

Cheeks pouched out comically, Dean chews frantically for a moment and then swallows audibly. “Wha, Cas?” 

Cas drags his fork around in a glob of icing. “I believe you need to go speak to your father. Part of—” Cas sighs. “He has been glaring at me more and more as the evening goes on. You can’t ignore him forever.” 

“Y-yeah… you’re right.” Dean digs his finger into the glob of icing and pokes Cas’s cheek with a smirk. “Time to go face the music, huh?” 

Meg gives a thumbs-up while Sam pats him on the shoulder. 

***

With a resigned sigh, Dean knows it’s time to handle the meet and greet with his father. _I got him to come. Gotta give the old bastard at least a couple minutes of face time. God knows I’d rather have Mom here, but she thought seeing me and Cas happy together on our wedding day would convince him to stop hating Cas._

Downing a couple of shots at the bar, Dean orders a double of whiskey and then heads across the ballroom floor to talk to John. His hands don’t shake, mostly. 

“Dad.” 

“Son.” John nods into his drink. 

Dean tries to smile. “I’m glad you made it out, Dad.” 

“I guess…” John looks up, his eyes searching Dean’s face, “I am, too.” He looks mildly surprised. 

Fidgeting with his drink, Dean lets a long slow sigh under his breath as he struggles to stay positive. “So… whatcha make of our little shindig?” 

“I’m having a good time. I didn’t know you two had so many friends. Especially such close ones?” John’s line of sight is fixed on Meg. He looks at Dean, one eyebrow raised. 

“Meg, she… she helped Cas and me through a really rough patch. He got really bad when I went to Tokyo for a couple of months last year.” Dean downs his drink, and resists the urge to rotate the old-fashioned glass in his hands. His gaze is level as he looks at his father, the barest hint of a challenge there. 

John sighs, rakes one hand through his hair and leans back in his wheelchair. “How bad was _bad_?” 

“Doesn’t matter. It’s over.” 

“He’s sick, son. It’s never going to be _over_.” 

“Yeah, well…” 

“Look Dean, maybe if you find a nice girl, like your friend there—” 

“ _Dad. You are so not doing this on my fucking wedding day—_ ” Dean growls. 

“I just want you to be _happy_. You don’t want this weight—” 

“ _No_. You want _your idea_ of what me being happy is! You’re a selfish son of a bitch, you poison _everyone_ around you and that shit you pulled with mom—she didn’t even come today! She’s coming after the honeymoon! _No_ , no you do not get to talk to me about happiness. It’s _over_. It’s _done_. It don’t get any more final than “ _I do_ ”.” Slamming his tumbler down on John’s table, Dean pinches the bridge of his nose and lets a breath out. 

“We’re done here. Thanks for coming.” 

“Dean, wait, hold on, son! I’ve gotten so much better. I’ve barely seen you for years and I’ve had a lot of time to think—” 

Pausing, Dean throws a look over his shoulder. “Yeah? Well _I think_ it sounds a hell of a lot like the same drunken garbage you’ve always spewed.” 

“Wait, wait, I’m not drinking. Seriously, this is a virgin margarita. Just listen to me a moment. You can do that for me, can’t you, son?” John’s big brown eyes, earnest and pleading, stop Dean in his tracks. Slouching, he turns and faces John again. 

“Okay. You got one minute, make it count.” 

“You and Sam, you’re such big-hearted, strong, good kids. I know I spent a lot of your childhood three sheets to the wind, did and said a lot of… regrettable things, especially to your mother. But I want what’s best for you… and while I can see—” John gestures over at Cas’s wedding gift to Dean— “quite clearly that he loves you, I’ve just never been convinced that Cas is it. 

“I’ve seen from the other side, the strain it puts on a person to stay with someone who has… a lot of problems. I don’t want you to just be following in your mother’s footsteps because that’s what seems “normal” to you, Dean. 

“And if someday you decide you’ve had enough and walk—” John swallows, eyes wet as he looks at his glass, and Dean can barely look at him, “—what do you think that’s gonna do to Cas, then? What’ll he have? It’s better to get out now, while you’re still young, have a chance of starting over…” John pushes his chair forward and takes Dean’s hands. He pulls on them and Dean crouches down into a hug. 

Supporting himself on the handles of John’s wheelchair, shoulders taut, jaw a hard line, Dean tries to swallow back the tears threatening to brim over from the corners of his eyes. 

“It’s… it’s different. He got help. I got help. It’s not like—... it’s different.” Swaying a little in his father’s embrace, fine tremors go through him. 

“That’s all I wanted to say, Son. Just take the advice of a selfish old bastard and think of putting yourself first sometimes, okay?” John pulls back and cuffs Dean lightly on the shoulder. 

“Yes, Sir.” Dean manages a wobbly smile. Not wholly together, but real. 

The night stretches on ahead of him, and so does his future. 

***

The breeze whips Cas’s hair back from his head as he, Meg, and Dean ride their gayly coloured bicycles down the beach, sandy cliffs on one side, ocean on the other. Cas takes his feet off the pedals and his hands off the handlebars and lets out a joyful whoop as the group zooms downhill. 

Dean laughs. “This is great!” He yells back at Meg and Cas. 

As they pass the nadir and momentum carries them part way up the next hill, Cas gets his feet back under him and starts pedalling from a standing position. 

“Don’t care for the exercise, but the view is great!” Meg shouts back. 

Cas grins and turns his head back for a moment to stick his tongue out at her. The three of them are out in the world, living together, enjoying life. Castiel has ended his study of the world through the frame of his living room window and their little family is nearly as carefree as the three small children who play together on their street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow Zeryx on Tumblr at [zeryxshipsit](http://zeryxshipsit.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can follow hit_the_books on Tumblr at [dreamsfromthebunker](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Please do let us know in the comments any thoughts about our fic and of course Kudos are always welcome C:


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